Exchanging High-heels for House-slippers

The morning of his seventh birthday I woke him up for school. As he stretched and raised his eyebrows, eyelids still shut, I could see the same face he used to make all the time as a tiny baby. Was it really seven years ago that I welcomed that cuddly swaddled bundle into my arms, full of dark hair and the cutest little dimple on his tiny right cheek? Was it really only seven years ago that I became a mom, because with three boys in seven years, my life has changed so dramatically it seems like way too much to have crammed into seven short years?

Eight years ago I remember sitting across the table from my husband in a nice restaurant discussing whether we were "ready" to start this journey called parenthood. (By the way we were soooo oblivious then to what a treat it was to go out to eat sans sippy cups, dropped crayons and impatient toddlers!) I had been convinced for about two years that I was ready to start parenting – but my hubby not so much. So that night when I expected him to say, "we just can't afford it yet" or "I'm not ready" instead he surprised me by saying, "I'm ready, but it is going to change your life much more than mine, are you sure you are ready?" This gave me pause for a few days, but in the end couldn't suppress that internal clock that was tick-tick-ticking! Today I realize that he was spot on – though I knew it only vaguely then, I could never have imagined how much my life would change with the new title of "mom."

For the first few years I wrestled with the change, loving it at times, struggling with it at others. In just a few years I had gone from a single woman in full-time ministry, to married and part time in ministry, and then – poof, a mommy not knowing what my ministry involvement should look like at all! Some days I loved the freedom of my schedule and being there to meet all my baby's needs. Other days I jealously guarded any "me-time" I could etch out and discontentedly compared my upside down schedule with my husband's who still seemed free to live life as usual. As I've grown into mommy-hood while my sons have grown before my eyes, I've learned to not fight against the changes, but embrace them as part of God's plans for me. I couldn't have put it in so many words at the time, but looking back this is definitely where I've come from.

Ruth Barton encourages me with her words about living within our limits in her book, "Strengthening the Soul of your Leadership." She says, "Living within limits is not in any way an acquiescence that is despairing, passive or fatalistic. Rather it honors the deepest realities of the life God has given us….Life in my family at its age and stage."(p.112,113). It has taken me seven years to slowly settle into this place. Ruth helps me see that my withdrawal from before-mommy-hood activities (like a regular eight hours of sleep) less like a regression in my identity and more like a progression.

The limits that mothering puts on my other activities, like our campus ministry and my writing, don't have to be negative or constricting as feminism would have me believe. Instead if I view them as Ruth does, and honor them as God given, I find myself embracing rather than comparing, enjoying rather than begrudging, and flexing rather than screaming at yet another roadblock in my day. I still have my days of frustration, but instead of begrudging my children of this time, or my husband of his, I'm trying to welcome these changes and take what lessons I can from them.

Feminism tells me to fight against this change, that I will surely lose my identity in exchanging my heels for house slippers. Yet I find that my identity is far from lost, if anything mother-hood is helping my uncover layers of my personality I was never required to draw upon before. My skill-set is only improving with each passing year of multi-tasking (reading to my four-year-old while tickling my two-year-old), budgeting (how many groceries can I get for the best price?), flexing (with the 2-yr-old tide), constant decision making (yes, you can flood the sandbox, no you can't put legos down the vent), (toy) negotiating and planning for the unexpected (poopy diaper)!

After seven years and several pairs of slippers I can say that my heels will always be there when I'm ready to put them back on but my children will not. This is my one chance to imprint on them all that they will need to succeed in this world and I'm happy to take on the job. It may be full-time now, but as I now know, six years can fly by in a blur and before I know it my "baby" is gone all day long. I'm no longer the one putting band-aids on his cuts and teaching him to share, sit still and follow directions. Other adults are pouring their time and energy into the bulk of his day and I'm left holding my breath and praying he has good experiences with them. He needs to learn to do this, to be on his own, this is what I tell myself as my heart constricts with each cutting of the apron strings. I'm sure he has no idea he carries part of my heart with him as he hops out of the van, with his bigger-than-him backpack bouncing along behind as he races up to play before the bell rings. I wouldn't exchange all that time with him for any amount of investment I could have made in others, or articles and novels written. Those will come in due season – for now I'm living within the "age and stage" of my family and loving it (most days); and my house-slippers are way more comfortable than my heels ever were!