My Vocation

I was reading through the description of my blog the other day.  While it is as accurate today as it was when I first wrote it, I feel that there is so much more I could add.  As the months and years go by and people and circumstances change, so do our roles.  And priorities.  More and more, I see definition...

"....I can see clearly now, the rain has gone...."

(Yep, there's always a song that relates to life).

My vocation as wife, mother (mamma) and homemaker has never been clearer than it is at this point of time.  I am besotted.  I am obsessed.

I suspect my blog will reflect this in the coming days and months.  How can it not?  Especially from something that brings such joy and fulfilment.

Yes.....

A vocation indeed.

Motherhood: The Hardest Work

"It's the hardest work on God's earth - being a mother" - My mam would often say.  She said it a lot when I became a mom for the first time.  And later - as my children grew, and the workload increased, she would add "... you have to have eyes in the back of your head..." to her repertoire.  Meaning; you have to be ever diligent in watching your children.  You have to always have an "eye" on them for the benefit of their health, safety, attitude and moral character.  It didn't matter where you rustled up that "eye" You had to have it ready as a beacon (or alarm); a call for necessary appropriate action.

These are the people she needed eyes in the back of her head for:

Child Number One, Two and Three

Child Number Four

Child Number Five

I've found my Mam's words to be all truth.  Mothering is never ending, and yes - it is exhausting.  It is hard and sacrificial.   And yet... it is the most blessed and life changing of all careers.  

Content Little Girls

Sitting in the mall - enjoying coffee with the Machinist, it so happened that we were right next to a child's indoor playground.  Neighbouring tables and chairs were strewn with handbags, bottles, snack boxes, nappy bags, coffee cups and tea pots, plates and napkins, little ones' clothing and shoes.  There was shrieking, squealing, crying and moaning.  Then, there was laughter and chuckling even.

"You know, Babe", began the Machinist. "You can tell the good parents.  You can tell who puts great effort into their children, and those that don't.  I'm not saying they don't love their children - ..."

"I know what you are saying.  I know what you mean.."

"See that mother over there, with the two girls?  I saw her give both of them the 'nod'.  It was the 'time to go' nod.  The girls made their way to the table, and mother directed them to put their shoes on.  They got up, and started to run towards the exit.  She told them not to run, and they immediately slowed down, waiting for her to catch up.  And the best thing about it, they didn't complain or whine, and they seemed content.  They obviously felt secure".  

As the Machinist was telling me this, there was shrieking and shouting in the background.  We were on our last dregs of coffee, and about to leave.   

Father passed by, slouching over a full shopping cart.  At least twenty steps behind him was Mother, struggling with a wriggling, shrieking toddler under her arm.  An older child was walking next to her whining at pitch.  Yet another child was running - ahead of Father and the trolley.  Then back to Mother, banging into tables and chairs (and other patrons) as he ran.  When this happened, the mother would give that 'kids.  What can you do?' look. 

And all the time, neither parent communicated with each other, or the children.