How Do We Present the Vocation of Motherhood?

At Catholic Schoolhouse for three hours each Wednesday, Mary attends the nursery. This is the first kind of daycare experience any of my children has ever had--they haven't so much as been at a drop-in care at a gymnasium. With her buoyant personality, Mary loves attending nursery and "helping" all the other children; when John is sick, she begs to go to nursery anyway.

When I collected Mary from nursery this week, she joyously announced, "When I grow up, I want to be a nursery teacher!" 

I thought this was delightful as it's the first time Mary has ever had a notion of being something when she grows up. I asked her cheerfully, "What is fun about being a nursery teacher?"

She replied, "The nursery teacher never complains."

I felt a thud in my stomach. "What do you mean, she never complains?"

"She has nothing to complain about! She never complains."

The nursery teacher, who is taking care of about 25 children--many of whom cry for extended periods of time, children who probably yank toys, hit each other, and make messes--the teacher whom I have never seen without a radiant smile on her face--she has "nothing" to complain about.

And it was then that I realized that I complain, including to the children, about the duties involved in my vocation. I vocalize to them that they are making "extra" work for me. In my absolute worst moments, I've even said that something they are doing is "wasting my time." (As in, you throwing a tantrum for five minutes over simply getting dressed is wasting my time because I'd rather be doing XYZ than this.)

This realization of how I present the vocation of motherhood to my own children made me reflect on a conversation I'd had with a girlfriend just days before about the difficulties of raising young adult men and women, how to advise about pursuing college without acquiring debt, and how we should advise daughters especially to be very careful about entrapping themselves in a career (and associated education debt) they can't get out of when they change their minds and want to stay home with their babies. She and I know so many mothers who have admitted they'd rather stay home, but they're trapped in their careers due to debt and perhaps irresistible earning power.

So, here Chris and I very much want our daughters to have the freedom to be homemakers some day, but am I making that option appealing to my daughters? And do my children even realize that I love this choice? That I'd make no other choice? Or am I daily through my actions presenting motherhood as an exhausting strain without enough reward?

This morning Chris took John to an appointment, so I took advantage of the girl time together to make a necklace with Mary using the cute jewelry kit she'd received as a birthday gift.

During our special time (which Mary enjoyed so much!), I asked Mary, "Do you know what is my favorite thing to be?"

"What?"

"To be a mommy!"

Mary was shocked. (Another punch in the gut.) "Your favorite thing is to be a mommy? Why?!"

I explained that I get to have babies, raise them, be here for them, and get to know their little souls. As I listed out these things, Mary's smile grew broader and broader, she looked so shy and delighted, and finally she squealed with delight. 

I explained that I was a lot of things before I became a mommy, but that being a mommy is by far my favorite. Being four, it didn't occur to Mary to ask what other things I used to be. Someday she'll know that I was a college student, a world-traveler, an athlete, an owner of a business with which I supported myself, and a law student. But none of those could possibly top the rewards of being a homemaker wife and mother . . . nor were any of those roles anywhere near as demanding as my current vocation. None of those roles did much to sanctify my soul at all compared to being a homemaker.

Clearly, my young children can't read my mind that I value my vocation of mommy-hood as much as I do. They can't understand that I would never put this much effort into it despite the demands were it not so important to me. Apparently it wasn't enough to Mary that my principle nickname for her is "Precious," I snuggle with the kids while reading to them every day, I say "I love you" several times per day, and so forth. 

I actually have to start telling them how much I love being a mommy! If I want my daughters to desire to be mommies, they have to see it as something wonderful. If I want my son to take on a wife and support her in being a homemaker, he has to see it as something wonderful.

And, clearly, I have to work hard on not complaining. This will be a huge challenge for me (please pray for me), but I have new understanding of why it is so important.

Happy feedback . . . later this very morning, after I explained to Mary that my favorite thing is to be a mommy, I found her pretending to be a mommy! Not a nursery teacher--so there!