It Matters

Three weeks ago, as I bent down to tuck in my daughter and give her a good night kiss, she whispered, "I don't want you to go. You won't be here to sing my song at night." I sighed and scooted on to the bed next to her, thinking about the two weeks of training that lay ahead of me.

"I'll tell you a secret. I don't really want to go either," I whispered, watching a tear slip down her cheek. "But remember when Daddy was gone for the same reason this summer and the two weeks went so fast?" 

She looked me in the eye quizzically and tearfully stated the obvious: "It matters more when you're gone." 

I sighed again as a tear slipped down my own cheek. "I know. I agree that in a lot of ways it matters more. But I know we'll both do the best we can, won't we? And Daddy will play your song that I recorded, or if we Skype at bedtime I'll sing it to you myself. Okay?" She nodded woefully and whimpered for another moment before drifting off.

I, meanwhile, drudged downstairs, that little wrench to my heart digging deeper with each step. I pushed aside my packing list and the computer screen berating me with all I had yet to do, working instead with renewed vigor on the little books I wanted to make the kids for while I was gone. They definitely weren't Pinterest quality, but that wasn't the point. I was on a mission to do the kind of thing that only I could do as their mom, knowing them inside and out and anticipating their unique needs in a way no one else could.

And as I both planned for my trip and planned for the best ways to meet all of my unique kiddos' needs during my absence, I realized just how much it all matters. How much I matter. I mean, it's a nice platitude and all to say we matter as moms. But to realize it because the truth suddenly slams you in the face? Man. That's an eye-opener. And it took searching for someone(s) to replace me for just two weeks to see the full impact, to understand very specifically just how irreplaceable I am.

When all was said and done, from a purely logistical standpoint, it took at least three people to divide and conquer and do my daily "job." Three people. 

(All to whom I am eternally grateful!)

First, there was our wonderful friend from church (who also happened to be our son's preschool teacher last year) who came to the house Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to "play" me: she drove my car around, kept the same insane schedule of dropping off the kids and picking them up at three different times throughout the day, fed and watched the kids and did activities with them. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, my generous mother in law watched our youngest and picked up our kindergartener..in addition to the "before and after care" teachers at school who also watched our daughter for a few hours before and after school on those days. And then there was my husband, who before and after work got to do the cooking (ordering) and cleaning and homework help and bedtime routine and laundry. Though I admit I'm still pondering how he managed to get to the bottom of the towel hamper that I haven't ever been able to fully empty in three months of trying to keep up with laundry. (Granted, my flowers didn't quite make it--but oftentimes I don't need any help killing them, either).

My point: All of that stuff that I usually I do every day by myself--with little thought and even less thanks--is really actually kind of a big deal.

When I'm hollering for the kids to get in the car before we're late for school, I don't normally consider it an act of heroism. But when I saw how many people and how much work it took just to get all three kids to school at their appointed times every day for two weeks...holy cow, does it matter. I don't normally think dragging myself from room to room at night wearily singing my kids their songs is anything life-changing. But then my daughter tearfully told me how much she relies on it every day. And as for the million other things I couldn't do while I was gone--like reach through the screen while Skyping and hold my little buddy after I watched him trip and hit his knee and cry in pain and need a kiss better--I truly felt the physical ache of how much my normal, every day actions matter.

I mean, imagine for a second what it would take for your family and household to keep going if you were to spend even just one normal day across the country. It could easily take an Army to do what you do--and even then, even after all the work is done to cover all the many necessary tasks you do every day, the most important part would be missing: you.

I think that's the realization that hit me most clearly. No one, but no one, can love my kids like I do.

And no one, but no one, can mother your kids--with the intricate entirety of who they are and what they need--like you.

Who we are and what we do as the moms who love our children unconditionally is irreplaceable, and no matter how many people (in theory) it might take, no one can ever truly take our place.

So give your important self a little (okay big) pat on the back right now. And take a moment with me to remember today that whether we're the one bringing home the bacon or the ones at home making it (or both), we're kind of a big deal. So hang on to that this week, and help me hang on to it too as I get sucked back into these little every day acts of heroism.

Because this [sometimes monotonous] mom thing we're doing?

It really does matter.

"Our Lord does not look so much at the greatness of our actions, or even at their difficulty, 

as at the love with which we do them." 

-St. Therese of Lisieux