Day 7: The Art of Being a Mother- Part 2 of 2

Selfless: I've never seen an example in selflessness to compare with the mother of my children.  She is so incredibly capable and wonderful; she would excel at anything that she decided to set her mind to.  In almost any other pursuit that she could have chosen, there would be accolades and honors, praises and promotions to accompany and recognize her hard work and sacrifice.  Instead, she's chosen to work full-time in a setting that many today openly ridicule and belittle.  Rather than take a position outside the home, she has elected to raise our children herself, all day, every day.  There's no paid time off, a sick day is just that: a day where she's sick.  Incentive programs consist of hugs, kisses, and sticky fingers reciprocating her handholding.  Benefits are few and far between, and pay... let's face it: the ledger is nearly always in the red.  From a purely pragmatic standpoint, it's a nightmare: it makes no sense.  And yet, I've never been so happy and content as when I get to watch and participate in this endeavor in action.  My wife has expressed to me numerous times just how grateful and selfish she feels, getting to stay home with our children.  Each time, I think how incredibly grateful I am, that she feels that way.  There is nowhere else she would rather be.  I can see it in every decision she makes through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year, as Sendak (Where the Wild Things Are, 1963) put it.  She chooses motherhood.  It's so incredibly evident, as I look for it.  It's not as if she is a social recluse who has no friends, seeking social fulfillment in her children.  On the contrary, she makes great effort in ensuring that she has friends, takes time for herself, and keeps doing other things that she enjoys.  I think she knows that by doing these things, she refreshes her outlook, renews her dedication, and rejuvenates her passion for being a mother.  I can see it in the last look she always gives us as she closes the door as she heads out; her eyes say that she's taking time for herself, but she lives her life for her children.  I'm certainly a beneficiary.  I'm the luckiest man alive.  

Playful:  A child's work is play.  No matter the context, the time, or even the species, the young utilize play as the primary method of learning who and what they'll become as they grow up.  I'm infinitely grateful for my wife: she takes her role seriously enough that she plays with our children.  It's certainly the longer and more difficult road.  Anyone who has experience with children knows that it's so incredibly easy to turn on a television set, a video game, or a smartphone, and get hours of quiet, nearly-uninterrupted time to oneself.  It takes so much more effort to encourage and fully engage young children in play than merely providing them with a set of toys.  Young children are passionate little beings; they feel everything so fully and so completely.  To fully engage them in play often requires meeting them at an affective or emotional level.  This means that, for as long as my wife wants to really hold our toddler's interest, she acts as a reflector, mirroring our daughter's emotions and thereby her experience. Claire does it in such a way that our girl recognizes it as reflective of her own experience, yet it is different enough or "marked" enough that she realizes that Claire is not literally simultaneously sharing in her experience.  Imagine the comfort this affords, and also the anxiety and concern it also avoids.  To learn, through repeated and early experience, that your mother is capable of understanding minutely what you feel as you live life.  Simultaneously, to know that she is not consumed, upset, or even thrown off by the difficulties of your life; it's a precious gift, and one that every child deserves to receive.  A brief verbal description paints a vivid picture: my toddler is heaving around a bucket that's nearly as deep as she is tall.  She has an obsession with carrying anything that has a handle draped neatly over the crook of her elbow as a purse.  She also like to fill this receptacle, no matter its size, to capacity.  This leads to trouble more often than not.  This time can be no different.  She struts into the living room, the oversized bucket swinging wildly and empty, at this point, on her arm as she twirls and dips in a shaky yet exuberant dance.  "And you're dan-cing!"  You can hear the smile and the joy in my wife's voice, just as you can see it in the toddler's dance.  The grin and the loving eyes from my toddler tell Claire that she's painted an accurate picture.  A few moments later, the dance has ended, and the toddler is in the kitchen, emptying the measuring cup drawer into the bucket.  Unfortunately, the bucket is too large, and the contents too heavy for the toddler to lift when completely full.  She grunts and complains for a moment or two before stamping angrily and dissolving into cries and tears.  There's no mistaking the frustration and defeat in that little, passionate body.  "Is it just too heavy?"  There's still a smile in the voice, but it's different somehow, communicating a sense of sadness and commiserating, rather than the ecstasy and enjoyment that were evident earlier.  Claire strikes a delicate balance.  Too little emotional involvement tells the child that her experience is irrelevant and unimportant.  Too much tells her that it is shared and experienced identically by everyone and everything around her, and is therefore to be feared and avoided.  I am so grateful for the fact that my wife chooses to be playful.  

Trusting:  Last of all, my wife is trusting.  It is not always so, but I try to make myself available and present with my family as often as I possibly can.  It may seem laughable, but, on the far side of a Master's degree in Child Development, and a certificate in Infant Parent Mental Health, I have yet to feel like I am Claire's equal in my capacity as a parent.  In spite of my awkwardness, my bumbling, and my inability, Claire chooses to trust me.  She trusts me as a father, and as a parent.  She takes the time to share with me her ideas, thoughts, and impressions, then takes equal time to listen to my own.  She sees and treats me as an equal in our cooperative role as parents.  When she decides to go out, she doesn't ask me to babysit: she expects me to parent.  I've been fortunate enough to be blessed with a wife and mother of my children who trusts me enough to include me in not only the decisions to be made, but the acts and service to be rendered as a full-time parent of young children.  

I'm so incredibly blessed.  I could not have asked for a better woman, or a better mother for my children.  She may not act like every woman thinks a successful woman in the 2010's acts, but she's everything I've ever wanted or wished for in a woman.  I'm privileged to know her, better for loving her, and blessed to be married to her.  

End of Part 2