22 May 2012

It's not as bad as it looks

(At least, I’d like to think it’s not.)

It can be hard when someone that you respect, but who comes from a totally different life situation and background (read: fewer kids, or maybe just fewer boys :P) sees you struggling with a disciplinary situation, or simply with an everyday child- or household-management routine. My skin is a lot thicker than it used to be, but I still care too much about what people think when they see me wrestling in the pew, negotiating a social situation with kids in tow, or dealing with things that come up in the privacy of my own home (and oh my, it does seem that things tend to come up when someone’s there to see). 

It’s tempting to allow myself to be discomfited by looking through someone else’s eyes at what appears to be household chaos, or to cringe through their ears at the domestic crescendos, or to wonder along with them whether all that brotherly jostling couldn’t really be prevented—or at least minimized!

That’s when I need to remind myself of a few things. For instance: Due to the sheer volume of bodies and attendant personal possessions, clothing, and projects, the house often looks less organized than it did back when I had only two kids—but I’m actually waaaay more organized now than I was then. There are always dishes in some state of cleanliness in or around the sink—but I have usual times to deal with them, including a commitment not to go to bed with dirty dishes in the house. Contrary to my visions of a happy, harmonious, homeschooling family, there are more interpersonal conflicts than ever—but when you remember that the potential for such is by now nearly exponential, based on number of persons together for endless hours, well, maybe that’s only to be expected. All the more opportunities for everyone to grow in consideration, communication, and negotiation!

And another thing (not highly original, perhaps, but helpful to keep me on track): if you walk into a carpenter’s workshop in the middle of a busy day, you’re going to find tools off their hooks and wood chips on the ground. You can’t build anything worthwhile without making at least a bit of a mess. Any project worth doing, no matter how carefully planned, requires a temporary suspension of the usual order—a state of affairs which is itself a part of the Greater Order of things. We moms are perpetually in the midst of a grand design that encompasses all of the littler daily ones. The mess in the workshop testifies not to a failure of vision or order, but to the in-progress status of a long-range project—a willingness to submit temporarily to wood shavings (or oatmeal and fingerpaint) in one’s hair in joyful hope of an eventual, eternal masterpiece. 

Lest we forget: Some people have to pay for the privilege of having someone else cover them in oatmeal. Because they find it relaxing.

11 comments:

Emily Cook said...

whether all that brotherly jostling couldn’t really be prevented...
This is exactly what I struggle with right at this moment. I sure wish it was preventable, but i am pretty sure there is no "solution." Just bedtime.

You are right, though; these are all opportunities for teaching. Perhaps my young boys will be fantastic at conflict resolution some day. (Assuming we all survive!)

I love the image of the carpenter's shop. There IS a place for everything and everything has it's place... those things are just not in those places now, and that is ok. We're working here.

Rebekah said...

>>but I’m actually waaaay more organized now than I was then

YES.

Leah said...

"Where no oxen are, the crib is clean..."
That Solomon sure knew what he was talking about. :)

Cathy said...

Exponential indeed. It forces us into a realm of organization most people can't imagine. Hence, the ubiquitous "I don't know how you do it!" It's not just a nice thing to say--they really don't know. Things are not always what they seem, though, and the casual observer may think we've been doing nothing all day, for the house to look like this. As for boys--Emily made me laugh: No solution, just bedtime.Sigh. But let us remember, much increase cometh from the strength of the oxen.

Reb. Mary said...

I really like the oxen applications here :D.

And I really, really like bedtime.

Cathy said...

Yes, and I really, really like being reminded of the Greater Order. Thanks.

Christina said...

After reading this post I'm feeling better already. Just imagine how good I'll feel after I reread it at 8:00 this evening.

And thank you for the phrase "domestic crescendos." That one is sure to become a staple description.

Melrose said...

Rebekah Mary: yes. yes. yes. and yes. I felt like you were reading my deepest thoughts in those moments of inner panic and turmoil in the pew or parenting moments on the driveway when neighbors are too near or parishioners are in our home when you said,

"but I still care too much about what people think when they see me wrestling in the pew, negotiating a social situation with kids in tow, or dealing with things that come up in the privacy of my own home (and oh my, it does seem that things tend to come up when someone’s there to see).

It’s tempting to allow myself to be discomfited by looking through someone else’s eyes at what appears to be household chaos, or to cringe through their ears at the domestic crescendos, or to wonder along with them whether all that brotherly jostling couldn’t really be prevented—or at least minimized!"

I find myself explaining myself to them, entertaining their thoughts, and almost giving them reason to think them by my show of uncertainty and confusion when in the public, or at least, semi-public if it's in my home with guests-realm. Why do I always have to say something?! Why can't I just smile and excuse myself and deal with it privately without concern to what they think?!

Reb. Mary said...

Melrose, the more kids I have, the more dark nooks and grimy crannies of sin do I find in my soul. Ah, my pitiful pride, that still cares too much about what others think. God knows how very eternally useful these unruly little mortifiers of my flesh are (if I am willing to allow myself to be humbled rather than merely humiliated).

Melrose said...

sigh. so true. So very true!

Aubri said...

I'm eager for that "thicker skin" instead of just being "thick". I think b/c it's summer and my critters are outside more for the world to see and hear that I've really been self-conscience about my "life-style choice" and I too feel the pressing need to "explain myself" to all. Poo.

The mess and noise that come with a lot of children, that mess is mine and sometimes I think I should hide it along with all the mama hollers and bottom smacks that ring out through our ("Pastor's"!!) screen door for the whole town to hear. I'm so ashamed of how Embarrassed I get to be "those people" with the wild, dirty, half naked kids. Sigh.

Living in faith is never easy. Boasting in my weakness is hard and that is what is painted all over our family, weakness, shame, failure, all on display, everywhere my brood and I go, for all to see. But I mother my babies with the faith that Christ will bring us through to a blessed end, end of the day and end of life, in spite of myself.