Day is Done

Forgive another foray into Deep Thoughts. As I sit here now, at the end of this terrible day, mentally and physically exhausted, I'm trying to make sense of what it all means. Motherhood, that is. I've found myself in a perpetual existential crisis ever since I became a mother, and I don't expect the crisis to resolve itself any time soon. I think it is a crisis of the post-modern world, of urban living, and of our fallen nature. Although I do think in the pre-industrial era, women's roles were more clearly defined and communities were more tightly knit, which shared the burden of mothering and housekeeping around a bit more.

I sent my toddler to bed with minimal supper because he had a complete meltdown at 5:30, shortly after my husband came home. While my husband normally does bedtime duty with the boy, I took the job tonight, hoping to restore some peace in myself and my son. He screamed and kicked and fought me all the way upstairs, but once I started the familiar routine of potty time, night time diapering, pajamas and evening prayers, he settled considerably. He sat on my lap in the dark while I sang him Advent carols and a few other liturgical hymns I know and was still. It reminded me of the many night time vigils I kept with him as a baby. The baby who is now a little boy, yet sometimes wants to be a baby still. I sat in the dark and tried to think about the Mother of God, whose conception we celebrate tonight and tomorrow. We had planned to attend the Vigil service tonight as a family, but are attending in shifts instead. All I can think about is the numerous women my mother's age who meditate fondly on the toddler years, and I wonder if I will feel that way some day. I know that these years go by so quickly, and there are definitely moments of intense joy as the role of mother, but there are many more moments filled with drudge work and frustration. And yet, I wouldn't trade my children for anything, and even long to have more. Parenthood is a strange paradox, I think.

So in this quiet moment of reflection, let me just say I hope for peace in myself, and pray for stillness of mind and heart, but I fall woefully short every minute of every day. Mothering is an exercise in humility and a constant reminder of the soul's need for God's grace on the journey of salvation. Maybe some day I can remember that in the chaos of the day instead of in the quiet after the storm.