a few weeks ago, my friend maryann reminded me of this wonderful quotation about motherhood and ministry, found in the equally wonderful book listening for god by renita weems. i think it can be easily stretched to speak to all mothers who are modifying and trying to integrate their visions of vocation and motherhood. i forgot to breathe while i was reading these words: 

“i will never be the writer i would have been had i not become a mother. nor will i be the minister or professor i could have been if i hadn’t had to suffer the interruptions of a sulking child or the vibes of a brooding husband transmitted under the door of my study. i give up writing the book i might have written or the sermon i might have preached every time i wander out of my study and follow the smell of popcorn wafting in the air, follow it in to the family room, where the rest of the family is watching the lion king for the forty-second time. i’ll never be able to recapture the fine sentences swirling in my head, or the fresh revelations that were about to lay hold of me. but for the joy of getting down on the cold hardwood floor and singing, “hakuna matata,” i’ll settle for bits and pieces of revelation god sends my way, and see what, if anything, i can make of them when i can. because today is today, and that’s all i have.”

and now, in light of a restless night with the bird and the inevitable morning-after fog that now surrounds me, i’m going to “wander out of my study,” as renita writes. happy thursday!

and p.s. renita still managed to be a wonderful professor. i was lucky enough to have her for hebrew bible at vanderbilt.

[the source for this post can be found on the bibliography page located in the sidebar to your right.]

about halfasecond after andy and i got married, people started asking us when we were going to have children. poor little nosy souls… they were forced to wait for six whole years for us to fit quaintly into their definition of family. there was a lightness about those years (probably the sheer absence of diaper bags and clinging children) but people sort of regarded us lightly too. i didn’t notice this, of course, until my life became full of baby love, it’s accompanying luggage, and the sudden respect i received just for having a small human being in my charge. seemingly overnight, members of our community began respecting our decisions to bow out early from a parties, to let the answering machine field our calls, and to decline “invitations” to chaperon church lock-ins. this regard for our boundaries has been a lovely, unexpected parenting perk.

for me, six years was long enough to be married without children; it felt too long, in fact. but what about those who simply choose not to become parents? my friends who have opted out of the parenting thing report that they feel left out, at best, and badgered and disrespected, at worst. 

elizabeth gilbert has recently brought this phenomenon to light in her book committed. she writes of the questions and judgements imposed upon her and others who have chosen not to have children. but she also points out that our society is actually better for having “aunties” and “(s)parents.” she writes,

“Even within my own community, I can see where I have been vital sometimes as a member of the Auntie Brigade. My job is not merely to spoil and indulge my niece and nephew (though I do take that assignment to heart) but also to be a roving auntie to the world — an ambassador auntie —who is on hand wherever help is needed, in anybody’s family whatsoever. There are people I’ve been able to help, sometimes fully supporting them for years, because I am not obliged, as a mother would be obliged, to put all my energies and resources into the full-time rearing of a child. There are a whole bunch of Little League uniforms and orthodontist’s bills and college educations that I will never have to pay for, thereby freeing up resources to spread more widely across the community. In this way, I, too, foster life. There are many, many ways to foster life. And believe me, every single one of them is essential.”

my children have several “aunties” and “(s)parents” in their lives. the glee with which the monkey and bird approach our friends, ruth, martha, hope, sarah, and phil (just to name a few) is second only to the relief i feel when someone with renewed energy and delight in toddler antics enters my front door. i hear these “aunties” and “(s)parents laugh at my kids’ jokes. i watch them join my children for an afternoon of porch swinging and story telling. i see them get down on the floor and immerse themselves in legoland and the enterprise of space-ship-building. and then, when these friends leave, i am able to see my children more for the funny little wonders that they are and less for the little tornadic wind storms that they can be.

so to all of the “aunties” and “(s)parents” of the world, i say THANK YOU. i respect your place in life, and i am thankful for it. there really are “many ways to foster life.” and to those who foster life here at our house, i am so, so grateful.

[the elizabeth gilbert quote is from https://www.babble.com/elizabeth-gilbert-committed-marriage/.]

name: Lane

age: 36

current city: Memphis

living situation: I live with my husband of 13 years, Brian, our eight-year-old daughter Sophie, and our five-year-old son, Whit.

occupation: I am a Registered Nurse, working full-time at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, where I’ve worked since I completed nursing school 11 years ago. I got my foot in the door on the night shift but took a nine to five outpatient position around the time we wanted to start a family. My current job is in clinical research, which is not very nurse-y, but it is immensely challenging and intellectually satisfying. I assist the MD researchers in collecting, organizing, and analyzing data to answer the questions posed to improve clinical outcomes for our patients and beyond.

how do you structure your time and space? I would call our work-family life “modern traditional.” Our babies were in full-time workweek daycare from four months of age and now have transitioned to school life with full-time on-campus aftercare. Our children have had wonderful caregivers both in daycare and in aftercare, and we are so thankful that we have rarely had to question those choices. We also have very willing, loving, and helpful family in town, and have been blessed again with supervisors and coworkers along the journey who are flexible and understanding when a family’s little hiccups occur. Thankfully, the hiccups have been small and well timed. What good fortune we have had!

We divide pretty much every household task in our family 50/50. Bedtimes and dinner clean-up are alternating nights, hubs does carpool drop-off in the morning and I do afternoon pickup, et cetera. Other tasks are 50/50 in that I never do trash duty, laundry folding, or bug squashing (to name a few things), and he rarely has the weekly grocery job or bill minding. There are some chores that come down to the good old fashioned “Mexican stand off” – how long can one tolerate the dog fur tumbleweeds or ignore clean dishes waiting in the washer before one of us just caves. As they’ve become old enough, our children have inherited some tasks such as setting the table and putting folded clothes in their drawers. The hope is that as they grow, they will help more and more with their share.

There is a lot that just doesn’t get done in a timely manner, or at all!
 
Weekends are packed with errands, play dates, and general “getting-it-done;” I have lists of my lists and delight in crossing things off. I have admitted numerous times that I go to work to relax. We are also experts on anything and everything that can be accomplished/purchased online (and we are ready to support a local internet grocery service, hint hint!!). I think we also do a pretty good job of making sure we each have some time to spend however we choose, no questions asked.
 
When the kids were very small, we thought daily life was pretty hectic (and it was) but school-age has brought a new challenges and adjustments to our well oiled machine (did I mention I was type A?). Strict baby schedules have now relaxed to accommodate swim meets or ill-timed birthday parties, and more and more often we find ourselves splitting the kids and the errands/social opportunities down the middle. We have to juggle changes on the fly more often these days. Fortunately, we manage to have dinner as a family four or five times a week (frozen pizza definitely counts!), a habit that I hope we will be able to maintain as our kids wander farther from our nest. We have a pretty lengthy bedtime routine that strengthens our parent-child connections. Early bedtimes for the kids, and late ones for us allow my husband and me to have some quiet time that often takes the form of multi-tasking in front of favorite TV shows. Growing children also means that we can get out more easily or gather with similarly situated friends and lock ourselves (with the wine) in the dining room while the kids wreak havoc and stay up too late.

Each stage has definitely had its pros and cons.  

using the metaphor of seasons to describe the phases of women’s lives,

-what are the particular challenges and highlights of your current season? I’ve often felt as if I am a woman transported in time from the Forties or Fifties. I have a vocation that has been historically held by women, and with my love of sewing, baking, and other domestic arts, I wonder if I’m channeling June Cleaver.

 I was raised in an intact traditional home with lots of love and plenty of advantages. (In fact, I recently moved across the street from my parents who still live in my childhood home.) Many of my childhood experiences are being shared almost verbatim with my children (choice of school, church, home, and some human values). I struggle with how to blend the “wholesomey goodness” I knew from childhood with the hard realities of this modern life and the opinions I have developed through study, experience, or happenstance. I am so thankful for the childhood I have known and the family who gave it to me. So why don’t I want to duplicate it completely for my family now that I am a parent? How do I construct a new iteration of family without following the pattern I know? How can I keep my favorite parts without passing judgement on the outdated, abandoned ways?
 
Thankfully I have some great role models around me, but largely I feel out of place in most circles because there’s just enough that is different about my situation that it seems like I’m always asking for exceptions or favors. Could we meet after six o’clock? Can’t we do this by phone instead of in person? May I take a two-hour lunch to “run” home and participate in my child’s class party? Will you have childcare available for this event? I know this is not unique, but in my mind, I always seem to be the one needing something more. I’m getting used to it, and some of these problems are getting easier because other parents with similar conflicts have opened the doors ahead of me, but I think about it a lot.
 
I feel like we have now reached the height of our summer season. Since shedding diapers, sippycups, naps, and the extra luggage that holds them, I feel like a kid who has stashed her school bag in the closet for a nice, long break. Our children are fun, expressive, imaginative, but still agreeable, easily entertained, and most importantly, they still enjoy being around us.

-what season(s) preceded this one? Early motherhood was a long, hard winter for me. Although we joyously anticipated the arrival of our first child, it took me over a year to completely submit to motherhood and the undeniable changes that accompanied it. I realize now that I much prefer my babies talking and self-feeding, thankyouverymuch, and that the post-partum period can last a very long time. Again, work was a refuge for me during this challenging time. I could come home from work and look forward to the time I had with my small children, knowing that I also had time in an adult world. I always knew my personality was not suited for staying home, even though working full time is not easy. Either way, it’s exhausting! Our strictly-defined schedules were simultaneously confining and comforting.

-what season(s) might your future hold? My daughter is approaching the pre-teen/tween stage all too fast. I don’t even want to start thinking about that season. Summer forever! 

favorite family activities: Wii games, board games, crafting, playing outside

favorite solo activities: creative arts of all types, especially sewing and paper crafting; baking when there’s time

source(s) of inspiration: I am constantly stealing ideas for crafts from any source (friends, etsy, lowe’s circular, and boutique clothing catalogs). I suffer from the delusion that I could replicate most beautiful things if I had enough time and money, and the proper tools. Never mind that it’s plagiarism or just not worth the trouble; I just love a creative challenge. 

best MakeShift moment: One day at work I found that I had forgotten to include the very important collection bottles that hook to the breast pump (regarding breastfeeding: I have never been so proud of myself for keeping it up for over six months with each baby, and also so thrilled to quit!). Knowing I couldn’t make it all day without pumping, I snagged some urine specimen cups from the supply cart, rigged them up to the pump, and stayed on schedule. They are sterile, after all! 
 
The first summer after our daughter was potty trained, we worried how this progress would affect the ten-hour drive to and from the beach for our family vacation. (Would we stop every 30 minutes versus every couple of hours?) That year, we packed the plastic training potty in the back and were glad to have it ! Several times, including on an exit ramp in Birmingham just blocks from several gas stations, we pulled out that potty and sat her on it, proud as we could be that Sophie had avoided an “accident”! I can’t imagine trying to help a newly-trained girl “go tee-tee” without giving her a place to sit.

[if you or someone you know would make a good “mother of invention,” please check out the nomination process and questionnaire located on the sidebar to your right.]

for the longest time, i resisted getting a tattoo. there was a brief stint in college when i constantly doodled dogwood blossoms and imagined one artfully inked on my ankel or just below the hairline on the back of my neck. but like all symbols that have illumined my path, after its debut as The Center of Unspoken Meaning in my life, the dogwood blossom returned to work at her day job as a bit of earthly matter charged to participate in an ordinary sort of beauty. and i moved on to the sanskrit word for OM, or the mayan cross, or something equally evocative and deep.

image from dianeplus5.blogspot.com

i saw the movie eat, pray, love last week, which reminded me of one of my favorite lines in the book by elizabeth gilbert. in the book, liz is lamenting to her sister that she is feeling reluctant about starting a family. she is trying to discern whether to heed or disregard this ambivalence when her sister says,

“having a baby is like getting a tattoo… ON YOUR FACE. you really need to be certain it’s what you want before you commit.”

it’s true. having a baby is an immediate, noticeable, and permanent identity change. i got my first tattoo in the summer of 2006, at which point i traded things like free time and personal space for an unshakable sense of love and awe and sleep deprivation. my second tattoo came in the winter of 2009, which is when i traded the last vestiges of order in my life for complete chaos, the last shard of my remaining vanity for a brown magic marker and a little road trip entertainment (see above), and my already-full-heart for an impossibly deeper sort of love. inasmuch as there is divinity in everything and everyone (and i believe there is) my children really are the reorienting, Centers of Unspoken Meaning in my life. i don’t want to completely lose my identity in them, and i still treasure the meaning found in all of the world’s symbols. but i have committed myself to shaping and being shaped by these little beings. i might as well ride with them into the depths and usher them into the heights of life. this privelege is what makes such sacrifice worth it.

but taking the parenting plunge yields yet another reward, one that i am just recently beginning to recognize. the indigo girls speak of it in their song, get out the map:

“with every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face/we’ll amuse ourselves one day with these memories we’ll trace.”

perhaps i am also trading worry and wrinkles for the sweetest of memories… the way the monkey cannot say his R’s, the spring of their curls, the first day the bird said, “hi, mama,” when i went to get him from his crib, our july hikes through the mountains with the monkey at my side and the bird in my pack.

my face is now its own geography of commitment and lessons learned, sleepless nights and smile lines, baby fingernail scratches and sloppy toddler kisses. now i’m not much different than the dogwood blossom, a bit of earthly matter whose day job is to participate in an ordinary sort of beauty. ahh, but what an extraordinary ride this is turning out to be!

i added a week’s worth of meals, recipes, and grocery items to my weekly meal plans page located on the sidebar to your right. click on over there for a little of this

and that

[this is the first in a series of guest posts written by jennifer harrison, who was perhaps the only other person in my high school english classes who joined me in gleeful celebration when called up on to diagram sentences. jennifer’s posts will highlight how her vocation as an elementary school teacher informs her parenting, and vice-versa. her bio is located at the conclusion of her wise words.] 

I’m not a math person but I have recently been throwing together some numbers. The upcoming school year marks my tenth as a classroom teacher. Each year, I’ve taught about 20 kids. This means that in all, I’ve worked with roughly 200 students, not to mention about 400 parents. So, long before I began raising my own daughter, Elizabeth, I was introduced to the wonderful, complicated, emotional, and consuming business of parenting.

While I will begin this school year and its requisite parent partnerships with a good chunk of experience under my belt, I nonetheless approach my tenth class with new eyes: the eyes of a new mother, who fiercely loves her daughter and only wants the best for her. I know that each first grade parent I will meet next week was once just like I am now: constantly chasing after a toddler; looking at a little face and wondering what kind of person this small being will become; and hoping that a cheerful, babbling child will always know a happy and abundant life.

Throughout my years as a teacher, I have come to believe that there is one essential truth about parenting. All parents, no matter whether they are overbearing, laid-back, or somewhere in between, absolutely love their children. The way in which this love manifests itself is wildly different from parent to parent. Some parents wring their hands in fretful anxiety about what I, as a teacher, know is a minor bump in the road (if it’s even a bump at all!). Others celebrate every victory and milestone with endless flashes of the camera and small notes in lunchboxes. Still others occupy themselves with very demanding careers so that they can provide their children with a vast array of creature comforts and material things. Regardless of how hands-on or hands-off a parent may appear to be, their common fuel is their deep and abiding love of sons and daughters.

” Too often, we critically declare that this mother works too much, this father hovers around the school too frequently, or this couple places too many demands on their child.”

I think it is unfortunately too easy for so many of us — teachers, fellow parents, and the casual observers of society — to quickly, harshly judge parents. Too often, we critically declare that this mother works too much, this father hovers around the school too frequently, or this couple places too many demands on their child. It helps to remember that all of those parents once held a moments-old newborn in their arms. They have all become enraptured, as I have, with the enormity and the wonder of a life that is, as a friend so wisely put it, pure potential. That moment is the tie that binds us all together as parents. It is a tie that I now share with the 36 parents who will soon receive a letter from me in the mail. I now understand the eyes with which those parents will read that letter. This fresh perspective has renewed my commitment to my career, and it has reminded me of all that I hope Elizabeth and I will grow to be as mother and daughter.

jennifer harrison earned her bachelors and masters degrees at vanderbilt and has taught in public and private schools since 1999. she currently enjoys chicago city life with her ER nurse husband, 13-month-old daughter elizabeth, and dog rowdy. when jennifer is not parenting or teaching, she enjoys reading, photography, travel, and the quest for the perfect latte.

the end of august is a perfectly normal time to start discussing halloween costumes in our house. and by “discussing,” i am actually referring to a complex, multi-step process wherein i decide what my children’s costumes are going to be (i am, after all, the decider), and slowly introduce my conclusions in sneaky and subtle ways until the other members of my family are reveling in their own flashes of costume insight (which were, of course, my own flashes of costume insight in the first place).

this system has worked beautifully in the past. every october for four years, i have successfully molded my children into little reflections of my own sense of humor, and in two cases, my own love of all things dr. seuss.

but this year, we have run into a little snafu. it seems that the monkey is now capable of independent thought. and in a giant act of rebellion against his canine-loving parents and select members of his extended family, the four-year-old has been unwavering in his commitment to be a “kitty cat” for halloween. this comes as quite a blow to andy and me, who have been plotting with another family to trick-or-treat as the entire cast of characters from yo gabba gabba.

just as andy and i were arguing over who would make a better DJ lance and pontificating about where we might obtain an orange jump suit, the words “kitty cat” were released into the environs. i must admit that my first inclination was to try to talk the monkey into being brobee or muno. but i did manage to choke out a hollow-sounding, “oooohhh, a kitty cat, huh? what color kitty cat?”

andy assured me that the kitty cat notion would be fleeting. he was wrong. the monkey has dug in his proverbial claws.

i could tell myself that the monkey’s halloween costume isn’t very important in the grand scheme of things. i could probably work my decider magic one more year and resume my ebay search for an orange jumpsuit. but i really think that this halloween costume debacle is one of my first opportunities to demonstrate concretely to my child that his ideas matter. the monkey has given me the perfect reminder that though part of my job is to influence who he becomes, another very important part entails celebrating who he already is.

so, this october 31st, our little monkey will be a kitty cat. what’s more, he will have the best damn kitty cat costume in the history of halloween. i will do anything for this child, including becoming a cat person.

name: Tootsie Bell

age: 45

current city: Memphis, TN

living situation: I live in Memphis with my wife and partner, Jamie Russell-Bell, and our beautiful nine-month-old son, Miles.

occupation: I am an artist. I make my living predominately as a jeweler/silversmith. I have owned and operated Bell Fine Art Jewelers  for 16 years. And as of recent, I am expanding into the public art forum. I have a piece at the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art, the Memphis Botanic Gardens, and my current project is a sculpture for Legends Park across from the new Le Bonheur Children’s Hospital.

how do you structure your time and space? Ahhhh time and space…..where did you go my friends? It’s really very simple and goes sort of like this: the mornings and evenings are all about family; the time in between is all about work. I have an amazing partner and we both give all that we have to our son. But we also try to do things for each other when we can. We each have our responsibilities, but if one sees that the other is burning out and is about to short circuit, we try to step in and take up the slack and give the other a time out. On the weekends, we alternate who gets up with Miles and who gets to sleep in. And we also give each other the space to get away once a week with a friend or whatever the “me time” requires. I have found that for for both of us, the key is to take that time and make it happen. Luckily, that is getting easier and finally, so is making time for “us”.

I’m a new mother at 45, my child has two mommies, and my partner is the birth mother. These factors also influence how we structure our time and space. If others were to label my role in the family, it would be, in most peoples’ eyes, the role of the father. However, I see it nothing like that. I’m aware that I have more male traits. I am physically stronger, and I take on more traditionally male roles such as fixing the roof, digging fence post holes, climbing under the house to fix the plumbing, and watching football on Sundays. But other than these things, I am in every way a proud, doting, new mother. I have the same nurturing drive, the same emotional response, and the same instinct and bond that my partner does. These traits that come naturally to me are often the ones that male counterparts have to work hard to develop (unfair, as it is) as they struggle with what their roles are, what to do next, or where to fit in to the new scenario. I feel like I’m much more capable of being there for my son and my partner. It’s the law of nature, I guess, and I don’t completely understand it. 

using the metaphor of seasons to describe the phases of women’s lives,

-what season(s) preceded your current season? The season before this was the ME season. The last 27 years were all about me. I spent a lot of time imagining what my life could be and how I wanted to be defined as an artist. I worked hard to chasing that dream with long hours in the studio, smoking, drinking, painting, sculpting, late late nights, and very little sleep. Then it was easy.

-what are the particular challenges and highlights of your current season? My current season is the US season. My life now is about caring for what I have built and who I have become, but most of all, it’s about my family. I was 44 when Miles was born, so I’ve gotten a lot of my needs out of the way. Still, it is definitely a trade off. Having children when you are young, you have the energy it takes to go without sleep and still keep up. Having children when you are older, you don’t have that energy, but you do have the patience and the wisdom it takes to sit still and give them what they need. I spend a lot of time cultivating my home life and trying to live healthy.

Being two mommies has made things easier for Jamie and me, I feel certain. But I know that with the unconventional there are challenges. Our parenting has not been struggle-free by any means. Not being the breastfeeding mother has left me feeling on the outside at times. But for the most part, we have been able to stay more closely on the same page throughout this big life change.

I read this bit of insight somewhere and have made it my primary goal. If I can give my son these four things, then I will know I have done my job: the unselfishness to release him, the vision to encourage him, the faithfulness to pray for him, and the wisdom to be therefor him whenever and wherever that may be. God knows I am willing to do whatever. 

-what season(s) might your future hold? Whatever my next season is, I hope that it’s long and fruitful and full of good times and memories. As an older mother, worrying about whether or not I will be around long enough is a demon I have had to duel on a regular basis.

favorite family activities:  Among my favorite family activities are playing in the pool. I love watching the shear joy that come from Miles as he splashes like a crazy chimpanzee. I also really enjoy going to Music for Aardvarks. Miles loves music and dancing and banging on the drums. But I’d have to say that my absolute very favorite family activity would be family naps and that sweet giggle session that comes after waking. There really is  nothing sweeter in this life.

favorite solo activities: My favorite solo activity would have to be playing music. I played the drums for a little over a year with the band, Giant Bear. It was such a great outlet and amazing experience to be playing with such talented individuals. I miss it dearly, but juggling new motherhood and running my business just doesn’t allow me the time and commitment needed to continue.

[if you or someone you know would make a good “mother of invention,” please check out the nomination process and questionnaire located on the sidebar to your right.]

this is my “to-do box.”

this is what the bird thinks of my “to-do box,” and all of the various lists, reminders, work obligations and home-related chores that reside on note cards therein:

what a perfect metaphor for what it’s like to try to be a “work-at-home-mom!”

i catch myself envying moms who work full-time outside of the home and those who leave their jobs completely to become stay-at-home-moms. surely life in these neatly defined categories is, well…neater.

but then i remember these wise words from lisa belkin’s life’s work: confessions of an unbalanced mom:

“i have yet to hear from anyone who feels they are doing everything right. so it’s not just me who can’t do this — and it’s not just you, either. not a one of us seems to be able to give 100 percent of themselves to their job and 100 percent of themselves to their family and 100 percent of themselves to taking care of themselves. small wonder. yet we all seem to think someone (else) out there is getting it right; people who work full-time think people who work  part-time are doing it, and people who work part-time think people who don’t work at all are doing it, and those who left the office to tend to home think that if only they could escape back to an office, they might find sanity. but all of this misses the point. no one can do it, because it cannot be done…. this emotional and economic tug-of-war is the central story of our generation” (14 , 16).

belkin is no longer in search of balance. now she’s just after “a close approximation of sanity.”

i think she might be on to something.

[bibliography is located on the sidebar to the right.]

last saturday morning i took you on a tour of my sewing room.

i have been sewing for almost four years, which is precisely the amount of time that some version of this mess (on the dining room table, at our old house) has been with me. people stroll through and exit with thread wrapped around their ankles. friends’children come over for play dates and lament to their mommies that they “don’t know where to walk in this room.” loose pins and other boobie traps are obscured by mountains of fabric — fabric that it so fabulous that i cannot bear to throw away even the tiniest scrap.

most people couldn’t live like this for four minutes, let alone four years. but for me, four years was just the right amount of time. and then, suddenly, last saturday, i was over it. not the sewing… THE MESS!

i’ve been hard at work. the reframe people should come shoot a commercial at my house. there were days of plotting, pricing, and sketching. there were manic trips to home depot with two children “driving” the orange plastic cart with steering wheels. there was an entire wednesday spent with children under my feet asking things like, “mommy, did you mean to put that hole in the wall?” then there were many hours of sorting, stacking, discarding, and hanging. and now there is this:

BEFORE

AFTER

let’s look at it again, shall we?  

i am pretty sure that everything is out of kid reach, though time will tell. i can always move things around if need be.

and p.s. — isn’t that a cool rug? i hadn’t seen that long-lost bad boy in ages!