It was a sweet little wooden house that did it to me. I imagined choosing scrapbook sheets for wall paper, shopping the cute miniatures aisle, sitting at a table with music playing while we crafted and imagined and played together.
I know life never turns out the way we imagine and that having a daughter would not automatically mean these moments would happen. 99% of the time, my brain settles on that truth and I go along with being the needed player to even out pick-up basketball teams or playing the bad guy in superhero imagination.
But sometimes, I need to acknowledge the remaining one percent. There are times when being the lone female feels sad: Family nights when none of their ideas for "family fun" even hit my top ten list. Snuggling in to watch yet another movie that is filled with competition or battle, everyone assuming that such a genre would be my first pick anyway. Imagining vacations when the guys all go golfing and I have to find something to do on my own. (I know. This is when someone says, "Pick up golfing!" That's a post for another day; I will not be picking up golf.)
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I've recognized that being the lone female seems harder in seasons when being "just mom" is playing out strong. For 13 years, my schedule, my work, my responsibilities have very much centered around the requirements of being mom. In the fall, though, there will be a shift. All of the children will be in school, a reality that has enabled me to start dreaming a little differently. I am still strongly tethered by my role, though, as whatever I dream about still has to fit within the confines of being available for sick kids, being home as soon as they are off the bus, being the driver to all.the.things, etc.
Yet, my thoughts regularly float around those seven hours. Someone recently seemed surprised that I might have interests beyond mom and pastor's wife; I have been trying to process why that reaction made me sad. I feel I am more than cook, cleaner, and church gap-filler, but sometimes it feels like it is wrong to admit that - just like it feels wrong to say that I sometimes imagine having a daughter.
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Typically when I write a post like this, I try to tie it up nicely. I love my kids, I love my husband, I am blessed in ways I didn't ever even expect. Today, though, I just want to leave this all here, a little time capsule to show the inner struggle of this season. I am clinging to the hope that there will be a day when I come back to this post and see some of the threads of how God used this chapter to grow me but also to prepare me for a future... that even though it was a time when I felt known only by my roles, Stephanie was still there.
Things I have been doing lately to try and remember that I am more than what my roles require:
- Reading She's Still There by Chrystal Evans Hurst.
- Taking some classes on Skillshare. (Full disclosure: clicking on that link will enable you to sign up for three months Premium at just 99 cents while also giving me a free month for myself.)
- Visiting posts that I have written on this topic before. Like this one. And this one. And this one.
If you happen to identify with this post and have a practice to help you stay true to yourself beyond your life roles, please share in the comments below.
I feel you about being defined by the roles you play. Lately, we've been working on self care for the mama here to avoid some of that frustration. Once a month, I go out with a few friends for a few hours. And, almost once a week or so, Ben runs point with the kids and household duties so I can have a few hours or even a day at home to do the things that make me feel like myself (painting, reading, sewing, shopping sans kids, taking a pottery class, etc...). Looking forward to hearing what practices you're able to put in place for yourself. Love you, Steph!
ReplyDeleteSo good to make it a scheduled and rhythmic practice - and so good to have this example of teamwork and self care lived out in front of your kids! Love this all - and love you!
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