I love this photo. Partly, I think it's because I like the vintage feel that our old, gross rocking chair and the Chinese art on the wall give it. But there's so much more to it. There's Enoch's energy and excitement, there's Michael standing pant-less and bewildered at what's going on with Mommy and the baby, and there's the newborn baby Peter. Of course, the jewel of it all is Mom caring for her newborn, surrounded by her boys. It's a sweet moment. Really, the picture is just a regular snapshot of the daily life of motherhood.
Except that it doesn't capture anybody crying, screaming, complaining, kicking, fighting, stealing toys, pooping, spilling food, asking for food, not eating their food, losing shoes, drawing on walls, breaking electronics, waking up the baby, refusing timeout, or refusing to be done with timeout.
There's so much that is wonderful and joyful about being a parent, but there's also a lot that is incredibly frustrating. Acknowledging the frustration doesn't imply we forget how wonderful our lives are, or that we forget the countless other families and individuals who suffer through poor health or poor living conditions or severe trials that might surpass our own. We don't forget, but at the same time we don't compare ourselves to others because we know that can lead to a bitter road. Everyone's story is unique, with different challenges and joys. It's enough to let the suffering in the world we see remind us to cherish what we have.
Perhaps, most importantly, we don't compare because it trivializes those we love. It would trivialize my wife. I will not compare my wife to another woman. At least I'll try my best not to. She is her own person, with her own strengths and weaknesses and mountains to climb and conquer. I will not let the fact that there are people in this world who have trials that we don't have, that she doesn't have, trivialize all that she does. That would be a grave error. There is nobody in this world who has the same cultural background, education, family, children, genetics, neurology, or spirit that my wife has. In some ultimate sense, every comparison one can make is of apples and oranges. Human beings are complicated, and even for religious people it is an act of great faith to believe God understands us all well enough to be fair and just. There's just so much about all of us that we can't see.
With this said, I'm grateful for everything that my wife does. She is a dedicated mother and wife. She loves our three children with all her heart. She worries about their specific needs and problems, needs and problems that I often am barely cognizant of. How to get Peter to nap or eat or poop so his reflux will be better so he will get a good night's sleep. How to help Enoch gain confidence, drink enough water, be happy, and satisfy his drive to learn new things. How to help Michael learn to share, control his temper, and be a good older and little brother. How to feed a baby, a 2 year old, and a 3 year old at the same time. How to get all the kids to take a nap. How to find a moment's free time to rest from the demands of the crying and screaming and complaining.
Sharon has to manage to figure out how to do all of this each and every day, without any real vacations. I'm not going to lie and say that it's always pretty. I don't think any real mother can avoid the grit of the trenches, and that's OK. Being a mother to three little boys is difficult, and it can often be a thankless job. Today, I really just wanted to acknowledge that. And I want to say thanks for putting your heart and soul into our family.
You're doing great.
