When I graduated high school, I knew just who I wanted to be when I grew up. Did you? I knew that I would go to the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. I would major in Advertising {I got to write and I didn’t have to take Math. Score}. I would then move to Seattle, {no. I’d never been there} and work for a magazine {no. I had no magazine in mind. Except the mythical one. That hired me straight out of undergrad} as a copywriter. Then eventually, after I had experience under my belt, I would move to Kansas City, work at Hallmark, and write cards {Because anyone can just get hired at Hallmark}. And maaaaybe… once my career was flourishing, I would get married, and have a child {A quiet, clean, sleeps all night, child}. Bada boom bada bing. Easy peasy. Life planned.
I believed in my plan so very much, I declared it in the Wilber Republican. Well, parts of that, anyway. And if you declare something in the local paper, well, it’s pretty much going to happen. Because that pretty much makes everything offish.
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| Ashli Eickman University of Nebraska-Lincoln Advertising |
But my plan… well, it kind of hopped tracks. Sure… I did what I told the paper I would be doing… UNL, Advertising… and that was pretty much the only part of my plan that came to fruition. And as for big things, it could be very easy, on many days, to scratch my head and wonder have I done big things?
And at points, it’s hard for me to determine, now that I have children, what do I think the big stuff is?
Are you the same woman you were before you had babies? Whether working full-time, part-time or staying fully at home… Are you the person you planned? Without a single doubt, I am certain I’m not. And I still, even 5 and a half years post the birth of my first born, and two more boys later, still I find myself a little overwhelmed by this reality. A little mystified by the way that motherhood has captured my full attention. Because I didn’t intend for it to become so all-encompassing. I didn’t intend to drop everything else, all of my other big things, to be the boys’ chauffeur, and their every moment of the day magic-maker, and their lunch chef, and their burp rag, the day-in day-out disciplinarian, the laundromat, and the referee. Because working, or not, we mothers stay mother in everything we do. And so there are days and moments where by the end, when I realize my things, the accomplishments of my day, have been laundry. And dishes. And attempting to keep my children in line. It is in those moments where I have thought, so these are my big things? And while it feels horribly disloyal to even think the words, at the end of utterly exhausting and unproductive days, I ask myself, can mothering… without having another job… a secondary identity… worldly success… be my life’s work? Will I feel fulfilled if it is?
This summer has been a hard one. With three different boys. Three different ages. Three different sets of needs. And rarely are all three getting their needs met. And so I’ve had many days where I’ve questioned what, on earth, I am doing staying home every day. And I’ve feared turning into one of those mothers who lives only for her children, only to have the rest of herself disappear, and to no longer have any way of living for herself. And I wonder what will happen if I ever want to have a traditional career again. And what will happen if I don’t. And what will people think of me… and the things, the big ones I was supposed to be doing, that I’ve left undone. And this unscripted road that I’m on.
And then the moments of clarity push through. The moments that reveal my true gratitude for this version of my life.
The moments where I wave. I wave as I stand on my front steps and send my middlest to pre-school. And I cry. Realizing that our current craziness. The sometimes overwhelming chaos. That will soon be a distant memory. With one heading to school, and the other to pre-school, our three months of summer will soon be over. And this phase, this current challenge, will have passed. And that although it doesn’t make some of the days any easier at all while I am living them, all I will have are the memories of it all. Of the belly kissing. The giggle fits at the lunch table. The snuggles right before nap. And all of the immeasurable rewards amongst the really monotonous tasks of the day. And it is in those moments of clarity, I imprint upon myself, I think, my children will be my big “things”.
As I wade through the waters of motherhood, they are sometimes clear… and other times, oh so murky, but the one fact remains… that I consider it to be the very best thing I’ve ever done in my life. And for that reason, I am oh so thankful for the detour from my original plans. And I suppose, even if to no one else, I can rest assured that I am doing the things that are big to me. And that will have to be enough. At least for now.
