Its a Dirty Job, But Somebody's Got to Do It
I came to a new conclusion recently while examining my life and inner motivations. Here it is, I am getting older. Epiphany right? No, but really, I think somehow in the middle of the night, I slipped from one category of women to another. Now I'm in the older women category at least in some things. Don't worry about me, I'm okay with it. Depression is not about to set in.
Titus 2 says, "Guide older women into lives of reverence so they end up as neither gossips nor drunks, but models of goodness. By looking at them, the younger women will know how to love their husbands and children, be virtuous and pure, keep a good house, be good wives. We don't want anyone looking down on God's Message because of their behavior." Now I put myself in the older women category not because I find my struggle not being with strong drink or a wagging tongue, and not because I think I'm such a model of goodness. Instead I see that girls are starting to come to me as an example of how to take care of my family and my house. No, I'm not really good at it yet, but I have had some practice.
In fact, it wasn't really until my last baby, Emari, that I really started enjoying being a mommy. I know that's sad but I still had this strange feeling that I was on a really extended babysitting job and eventually the parents were gonna come home and pay me for taking care of their kiddos. Even now sometimes my older son calls me mom with his deep masculine voice and it sets off something inside me. "Who is he talking to exactly?" I ask myself. "I'm way too young to be his momma." Now this time around, I've been enjoying postpartum recovery an awful lot. Once I got over the pain, I have been reveling in the clean house aspect. All of the sudden, I'm planning meals, and cleaning up and loving it. My family, other than the momma cooking part, have enjoyed it too. (everybody in our house prefers for daddy to cook, including daddy, but that's another blog)
I have to give props to two girls I overheard at the park the other day. They were discussing their lives at home and how their husbands went to work each day. These girls, who are in no way slaves to domesticity, actually verbalized their belief that as long as they are staying home with the baby, keeping house and taking care of their husband is their job. Oh my gosh, what a novel idea. I never really looked at it that way, honestly. In my dutiful staying-home-with-the young-uns days, I resented my man driving away each morning and leaving me to a day full of drudgery and near slavery at home. I thought he had it good and even though I kept house and took care of the babies, I hated every minute. Nearly every day I planned my escape.
Now those babies are grown and helping around the house wondering when exactly I'm going to go out and get a real job. Not the image I want to project anymore. They do need me and desire my attention at home, but my distress in those early years poured over onto them. There's still a few good years left to remedy now that I've seen the light, but I do wish I would have had good examples of content older women to guide me along my road. There are seasons in life and there are roads that we choose to walk down. In this road and season I want to be a Godly example of contentment and success God help me.
Titus 2 says, "Guide older women into lives of reverence so they end up as neither gossips nor drunks, but models of goodness. By looking at them, the younger women will know how to love their husbands and children, be virtuous and pure, keep a good house, be good wives. We don't want anyone looking down on God's Message because of their behavior." Now I put myself in the older women category not because I find my struggle not being with strong drink or a wagging tongue, and not because I think I'm such a model of goodness. Instead I see that girls are starting to come to me as an example of how to take care of my family and my house. No, I'm not really good at it yet, but I have had some practice.
In fact, it wasn't really until my last baby, Emari, that I really started enjoying being a mommy. I know that's sad but I still had this strange feeling that I was on a really extended babysitting job and eventually the parents were gonna come home and pay me for taking care of their kiddos. Even now sometimes my older son calls me mom with his deep masculine voice and it sets off something inside me. "Who is he talking to exactly?" I ask myself. "I'm way too young to be his momma." Now this time around, I've been enjoying postpartum recovery an awful lot. Once I got over the pain, I have been reveling in the clean house aspect. All of the sudden, I'm planning meals, and cleaning up and loving it. My family, other than the momma cooking part, have enjoyed it too. (everybody in our house prefers for daddy to cook, including daddy, but that's another blog)
I have to give props to two girls I overheard at the park the other day. They were discussing their lives at home and how their husbands went to work each day. These girls, who are in no way slaves to domesticity, actually verbalized their belief that as long as they are staying home with the baby, keeping house and taking care of their husband is their job. Oh my gosh, what a novel idea. I never really looked at it that way, honestly. In my dutiful staying-home-with-the young-uns days, I resented my man driving away each morning and leaving me to a day full of drudgery and near slavery at home. I thought he had it good and even though I kept house and took care of the babies, I hated every minute. Nearly every day I planned my escape.
Now those babies are grown and helping around the house wondering when exactly I'm going to go out and get a real job. Not the image I want to project anymore. They do need me and desire my attention at home, but my distress in those early years poured over onto them. There's still a few good years left to remedy now that I've seen the light, but I do wish I would have had good examples of content older women to guide me along my road. There are seasons in life and there are roads that we choose to walk down. In this road and season I want to be a Godly example of contentment and success God help me.
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