In the Leaves

Today was a good day, the kind of good that reaches deep and fills me with joy.  Not like yesterday, when an interrupted nap caused me to cry along with Michael, when I unsuccessfully tried to referee a fight with the rear-view mirror and ended up throwing a baseball glove back to get the boys' attention.  Today, we had nowhere to go.  We had no appointments or meetings to hurry for, no one waiting for us to arrive or depending on my ability to get shoes on small, wiggly feet.  This morning, perhaps for the first time ever, Winston willingly shared his cars with Michael, and as they played peacefully, I was able to get my shower.  Once we were all dressed for the day, the boys insisted we play outside, and thanks to this beautiful weather, a week of sunshine and falling leaves, we found ourselves in the backyard jumping around in piles of crackling leaves.  I took pictures to capture the moment, to share it with my husband busy at work and relatives who only experience our family via social networking.  The joy of the moment is caught on my children's smiling faces, but the pictures hide my internal struggle.

Last night, I read Matt Walsh's blog about At Home Moms, and I realized that a war is raging within me all day.  First I am a woman, a list-maker and do-er, someone who derives identity and worth from what she can accomplish.  That woman was a great student and employee, always doing more and more.  She set goals and made things happen.  But that woman became a mother.  A mother is a nurturer and giver, whose time is best spent being: being with her children, being present in the moments that come unbidden and without warning, the first steps and the first words and the questions and the requests to read the book again, play the game again, make me another meal, change another diaper.  Being alert to the nonverbal signals that a child is tired, hungry, wet, scared, needs his mama.  And if you haven't already figured it out, doing and being come into conflict over and over.

The woman in me says leaves should be raked and collected and gotten rid of.
The mom in me says leaves are meant to be raked into a pile over and over so children can jump and throw and kick and laugh.
The woman in me says an hour playing outside with no accomplished task is a waste of time.
The mom in me says playing outside means setting aside the list of things to do and enjoying with the kids.
The woman in me sees the grass stains and dirty pants and panics that they won't come out in the wash.
The mom in me sees the grass stains and dirt as a measure of how much fun is being had.
The woman in me looks for a way to make this time productive, like teaching ABCs or learning to identify the trees.
The mom in me looks at happy faces and thinks her children are teaching her something.

Sometimes I need Winston to dump out my bag of leaves and shout, "I want a BIG PILE!" to remember that moms don't need to have the nicest lawn or the cleanest house.  They need to have secure children who know they are loved and valued.  And they need to stop doing, and just be.  So the mom in me is glad that I made that decision many years ago to stop working at a job and make motherhood my job.  That my husband supports us and supports me in who I am.  That lists are fine and good and have a place, but don't contain my worth as a person.