It was a day-after-day kind of day. Another day at home, twin three-year-olds whining at me, wearing on me, pulling on me and my threadbare patience. I read all about the French parents and their supremely well-behaved offspring that the entire Internet was going ga-ga over, and I was 12-years tired of my whole stay-at-home gig, and these people amazed and inspired and pissed me off, and I tried to reproduce their authoritative tone, but I guess I lacked a certain je ne sais quoi because my smallest children kept acting like total merde.
“I hate staying at home,” I confessed.
And it was selfish, this admission out loud, this burden on the man whose hands were tied to an office desk, whose heart broke a little more every time he heard over the phone that his babies were not delighted over. But his words bore no admonishment, only gentle truth: “You won’t have that forever. And then you’ll miss it, you know.”
And I knew it; I know it. But that day I didn’t want to pay the price for future fond memories. Right then, that day, I didn’t want to be yelled at about tightening the straps of tiny shoes. I wanted to do my work, alone.
So they yelled and I yelled back, and instead of discipline I taught them “goddammit,” and I felt bad for them but mostly I felt bad for myself.
He came home for lunch but the respite was brief because they wanted to sit on my lap before I’d finished my salad. And I was hungry. So I grumped and I gritched til I didn’t have to hold them, and I got to eat my salad, but he held the big-blue-eyed babies, and they laid curly heads on Daddy, and I could tell they were all filled.
Before he left, he reminded us about watering the new plants in the garden– strawberries and lettuce to grow and to grow on. So I heaved sighs and we donned shoes and I-know-I-know-you-want-me-to-tighten-the-strap.
I stood by the spigot, filling and refilling sun-bleached plastic watering cans, and my littlest girls made merry trails of drops, back and forth between a grumpy mama and a winter-worn garden. But after a few minutes of tuned-out refill duty, I noticed that they were watering weeds.
And I realized that’s what I’d been doing all day.
So I gently guided their efforts to watering the fruit- and flower-bearing plants, and after they decided our work was done, my two tiny girls delighted to pick me bouquets. And I could see that they were weeds, but in that moment, they looked just like flowers.
So refreshingly true. You’re not the only one.
Thanks for saying so; it helps.
I like the “Why French Parents are Superior” tag on this post. =)
I used to do maintenance and landscaping work, and so I have a special distaste for weeds. Anytime I seem them, I cringe. However, I’ve never thought of how I view others who seem like weeds in my life, so this was eye-opening in that aspect.
Thanks for these words!
Oh gosh, no– I hope it didn’t come across that way. I didn’t see my girls as weeds; it was my actions and reactions that were the weeds. My sweet girls helped me change my attitude, watered my weeds into flowers. So sorry if that didn’t come across.
It did. Loud and clear.
Thanks, David! My inner perfectionist is assuaged.
Boy, that was a real “snap my head backward” realization this morning, Tamara.
For all my philosophizing about proper ways to parent without dousing the fire of my son’s spirit, I never thought about it being just as easily doused by watering the wrong things. Those “weeds” will grow up and strangle the beautiful “flowers” of his soul and keep him from God’s purpose for his life.
This image is a very powerful one for me; thanks for sharing, Tamara.
We are here and we learn by God’s grace.
I’m glad it reached you that way today.
I find that anger sometimes builds momentum, and it almost grabs me and shoves me forward in a direction I don’t want to go. It’s so hard to yank myself out of it. Sometimes we need a jolt, even if its a gentle metaphor in the garden.
This post also reminds me that I’m totally in for it with our first child arriving this July. Totally… in… for… it.
That’s exactly how I get– propelled in directions I don’t want to go. Thank God for the jolts.
And yeah, you’re screwed, buddy. And so, so blessed.
I remember the days you’re writing about. When I was pregnant with my second child, I remember being sad and telling my husband “I like just the 3 of us. I don’t know enough about her (my daughter) to start focusing on another child. She’ll be 18 before we know it and out of the house.”
He laughed at me and said I was being dramatic. Well, here she is 17 years old. I want to go back in time and re-see the things I miss. Not the big things; just the day to day stuff.
There were many times during the past years I resented being a stay-at-home Mom. Mostly in the infant and toddler years. Once the were old enough for Mother’s Day Out, I didn’t resent it quite as much. But now when I see the fine young lady my daughter has become and the tender-hearted young man my son is, I know ever day was worth it. Well, that might be a stretch. Let’s go with most days were worth it.
“I want to go back in time and re-see the things I miss. Not the big things; just the day to day stuff.” Thank you for saying this from where you are on the other side; I needed to hear it.
Man, that is my week.
Just keep on the look-out for the flowers, my friend. Glad we’re in this real-life thing together.
Ah…how I wish I could go back and water more flowers than weeds. In the moment, sometimes other things seem more important that the busy busyness of the days at hand. Great post.
Yes, and even when I know that these other things aren’t always more important, they so often seem much more desirable. *sigh*
Your post is especially poignant following the death of one of those children…there is so much I wish I could go back and change or do-over. Things I thought so important at the time now seem so miniscule. Cherish the moments…they only come by once.
Thanking you for your grace through my own tears. I am so very sorry for your loss.
I don’t think I could do it, Tamara. But I do know I spend many moments each day gazing longingly at the freeze-framed smiles that adorn my office, wishing she would run in for just another hug or to report another mess. Oh, to have the best of both worlds.
This reminds me of an older mom who once said, “You can have everything, just not all at once.” I try to live in the truth of that, but mostly I eff it up with my own impatience.
Oh, girl, you got me. That is me. Has been me. Why don’t I notice, nurture, tend to my flowers instead of spreading more fertilizer on the weeds in my own heart??
Weeds spring up and thrive so much more easily than flowers. Flowers take real tending. Here’s to our gardening a little better today.
I thought those years would never end. I thought diapers would go on forever. I thought car seats would never come out (oh wait, they don’t!!!) I remember screaming with the windows wide open for all the neighbors to hear. But my daughters remember music playing and fresh baked cookies and, oddly enough, a clean house. (Go figure on that one!) And I remember sunny days and the freedom to go with the flow rather than by the clock.
What is a weed? Any unwanted plant. A rose bush in a corn field is a weed. A dandelion bouquet is a treasure. It’s all a matter of perspective. But you know that.
A matter of perspective. Funny how I knew it enough to write it, but I find your reminder still teaching me; thanks for that.
I remember days like this all too well. Thank you for sharing your beautiful and honest perspective. -Laurie
Thanks. I think sometimes just being honest about the crap and hearing that you’re not the only one with it is a big help.
Your house sounds very much like our house. My wife and I talk about this staying-home thing on a regular basis. I like the open-endedness of the post because there really is no neatly-wrapped resolution when it comes to being a stay-at-home mom who also has outside aspirations.
I’m really looking forward to meeting you guys– it will be a delightful madhouse. And yeah, there’s no neatly-wrapped resolution here, not if I’m honest. And I think sometimes we just need an honest glimpse instead of a perfect package.
I think we’re in the same place, my dear. Thank you for this.
My pleasure. These “you’re not alone” responses are really lifting me.
Oh my word, Tamara. This is beautiful and unexpected. Even though I nanny and give the baby back to her parents at the end of the day, I fight through those moments of wishing she’d take her nap so I can write. It’s silly because I adore her and her family and this gift that they’ve given me- a paycheck that affords me the opportunity to write. So I try to put my agenda aside and focus on my part in growing this little girl. The rest can wait.
Sweet Leigh. I am certain you are doing a fine job of loving that little one. Miss you.
Oh, thank you, dear friend. I hope so. Miss you, too.
This resonates with me so much I want to laugh and cry all the same. Laugh from the joy and gift that I really am not alone. I know people say it all the time, say that they understand, but your words just proved that you really do. Oh, thank God!
I don’t have a garden, but I do water my weeds. And most days I feel justified in doing so. I spew anger, I grow resentment, I feel hurt and misunderstood and hopeless. And those three little angels take it all and give back love. I’ll never understand how God can use such tiny beings to be such a megaphone of grace and love, but I am thankful. Your post reminds me that I am oh so thankful.
Thankful along with you, for knowing we’re not alone and for being blessed beyond deserving.
I see it like this- As an at-home mom, we’re helping to create a masterpiece out of our children, but sometimes all we see are the tedious, endless little brush strokes. Small work that leads to no visible end. Sometimes we need to step back and view the canvas as a whole, incoplete yet beautiful.
Parenting is nothing less than exhausting. You’re not alone! But days do get easier!
It’s so true; I’m glad for that small moment where I got to step back and see it.
Absolutely beautiful, Tamara. You are reading my own mail here.
Thank you, friend. I’ve added it to your Practice of Parenting blog carnival. It’s not the most pristine practice, but it’s my real practice, in all its dirty truth.
Oh, I know these feelings so well! My twin girls are almost five now, and it’s just this past year that I’ve looked at my husband and said, “You know, I actually enjoy them as *people* once in awhile now, when I’m not wanting to strangle them.”
Thanks for your honest, encouraging words.
Ha! I’m glad you were encouraged.
I went through this a couple of months ago. It was not pretty.
And I’ve just decided that I NEED to plant a garden so that I can learn all of these life lessons by tending to it.
I am grinning at the idea of a garden for lessons’ sake. You know you might be a writer if…
That’s beautiful! Relatedly I’m going to start growing some flowers soon with my toddler, hope it works out just as well!
Enjoy growing those flowers, in every sense.
A fantastic reminder to cherish what will be gone before we know it. Even when it doesn’t seem cherishable. LOVE!
I needed the reminder myself. Glad it helped you too!
Can I just gently say here – how very lovely it is to find your voice in this space again? This is beautiful, so true, so poignant. Yes, the stay-at-home gig gets old, but it’s truly garden time, isn’t it? Finding that balance between mothering well and maintaining personal sanity is tough to do sometimes. I’d say you’re finding it really well.
Thank you; I miss writing here, but working on the book is so important. I know you know.
I’m not sure how well I balance, but I’m grateful for the encouragement while I try.
i love this, and i know. we’ve been having One Of Those Weeks. your words are balm.
Ugh, I’m sorry you’ve had a week like that. How gracious, that we get to live in community and not go it alone.
I’m sorry. I have to say, I think it’s lovely that you’ve wrapped this up in a lovely literary bow.
But.
You need to get a babysitter once in a while so you can get some work done.
It’s not selfish, and you’ll appreciate your garden more after having been away for a little while.
Thanks, friend. I think I ended the story where it felt right, but I certainly have no pretensions of wrapping it up in a bow. In fact, I wouldn’t even want that. I wanted to show real life, mostly in its messiness, but also a little in its beauty.
I’m getting help once in a while. Thanks for looking out for me. xo
SO not alone. Been there. Am there right now. Will be there again.
<3
“Will be there again.” Oy, that’s the dark humor in it, isn’t it? My kids range from 3 to almost 13, and it doesn’t get easier– just different. All hard, all worthwhile.
I feel exactly the same way. Really. You are not alone. This is the hardest work. A lot of days I wish I was the one tied to an office desk. Thanks for your honesty!
Did you catch my jealous tone in that sentence? It was there.
Thanks for the encouragement!
Oh wow, are you sure you weren’t spying on me yesterday, so that you could write a full-length report on my crazy level? LMAO I have twins that are almost two and another one on the way. Staying at home is so hard, but so worth it. For me, it’s really about waking up and making it to bedtime, while remembering to feed, clothe and pick up a zillion messes. The twin thing is wonderful but they do tend to execute the “Push you, Pull you” syndrome quite nicely, don’t you think? I too have a problem with getting angry, but am trying my best to keep it in check. It’s nice to hear there are others out there doing the same day-today, flippin out, but loving their kids at the end of it…I’m off to eat chocolate and hide, now…
Enjoy that chocolate. With twin toddlers and a baby on the way, you surely deserve it.
Thank you. You found me guilty today.
Well you can see that you’re not alone.
There are days, and there are days…. We all have ‘em, whether we’re the one tied to the desk or the one tightening straps, filling sippy cups and cleaning messes.
Real life…. weeds and flowers together, right?
Good post!
Thanks, Dan. Yeah, it’s easy to think the grass is greener, but I’m sure you’re right that it’s not.
so honest..so raw..so true for so many moms..thank you…made me think of me some 30 years ago and brought tears to my eyes…loved it .thanks so much for posting
Thank you. I’m glad it touched you.
As a “work-outside-the-home” dad (what choice do I have?), surprisingly I find that I can identify the sentiments you express here. The workday grinds me down, and when I get home, I find I just want children who will listen. To me. When I issue a directive.
Do I have such children?
Not usually.
This makes me mad.
I say things I shouldn’t.
So it goes…
Does any of us have such children? Oh yeah, right– the French. *snort!*
In the garden of blog posts, this is one of the most beautiful ones I’ve seen in quite some time!
So gracious of you; thanks, Kim.
I really appreciate this. I’ve wanted to write about the struggle of motherhood but I honestly am afraid that confessing my eff-ups could get us in trouble. It’s comforting to know that I am not alone.
It can be so hard. Writing won’t make it easier, but it might make it lighter. xo
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Lovely reminder of the blessing of staying home with your children while they’re small. And I was surprised to learn that the French have children.
Hahahaha!
This was REALLY good. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to quote you in the future. =) Thanks for making me think.
Aw, thanks. I’m glad you found some good stuff in there.
I’m guilty of watering weeds, too, not just in terms of my attitude when I’m annoyed with parenting, but also with administrivia at work and little pet peeves with extended family and “obstacles” to my writing, etc. Thank you for the reminder that it’s all about where we focus our attention and how we choose to view life that matters most. Beautiful.
Thanks, I’m glad the message spoke to you.
I am not a stay-at-home mom nor do I have twin 3yo girls but I do have “those” days. I had one particular crappy one recently when my vocal and tasteless complaints at God garnered me a realization that I was the one at fault. Damn.
Ha! Those are the most uncomfortable learning moments.
It is with much appreciation and laughter that I read through your mama-life post. So few speak about the tired, the goddammit, the just-wanna-be-doing-something-{anything!}-other-than-mama-right-now, reality. And it really is perfect that it is juxtaposed against the amazing beauty and ‘aliveness’ of your precious daughters. When my shit starts hanging out with my bad attitude, my son could not be more amazing or more present or more loving. The irony often makes me soften and accept, unless, I just stay pissed off for a bit longer. ;o)
Thanks Tamara – your transparency is magnifique!
Janae
This really made me smile. Merci.
Great post. Huge lump in my throat. Because I don’t have that stay-at-home time anymore and I miss those “on-my-last-nerve-moments”, but I still water weeds FAR too frequently instead of enjoying the moments. do we ever get it “right”?
I’m certain I’ll never get it all right, but it helps knowing I won’t be going it alone.
I absolutely relate to this (well, ok, so I don’t have twins, but I do have a three year old daughter and a recently-turned-one-year-old son). Reading this also reminded me of the FiveIronFrenzy song “Dandelions”. For those not familiar, the chorus goes:
“Lord, search my heart,
create in me something clean.
Dandelions
you see flowers in these weeds.”
Perfect.
Oh, Tamara. This is EXACTLY what I needed to read this morning, because I taught my sons “Leave me alone for 5 FREAKING minutes!”, and to holler it at top volume.
This is quiet. And loud. And beautiful.
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