It wasn’t long after we trudged inside the children’s museum on a gloomy Thursday afternoon that I began to do what I always do when in a new environment: observe how people function within the given space.
No worries, no You situation happening here. I just find it fascinating to see how people carry themselves, react to various situations, and interact with others. Because every person’s life functions inside a narrative that functions inside THE Narrative of all life, I feel that’s definitely worthy of my attention!
My observations have shifted and focused on a specific group in the past two and (nearly) a half years, though: to moms.
While I am fairly confident the world will never fully appreciate the complexities of motherhood (that’s right—no matter how many influencers’ posts, letter boards filled, or opinion articles written), those complexities exist. From outer appearances to internal strife. Get any five moms together to ask them about their day-to-day thoughts, struggles, hopes, and doubts, and you’ll have a ten page document on your hands, easy.
I watched moms with droopy eyes lag behind their energetic kids, moms dressed to the 9’s appear to glide across the colorfully patterned floor, moms staying close to other moms almost as if they were in need of a physical and/or emotional buffer from the rest of the museum’s patrons—from kids and adults alike.
I saw moms getting work done on personal tablets and moms working on playing (with their kids and without them).
I saw thin moms who looked like they just finished working out, overweight moms whose body language communicated they were uncomfortable in their own skin, seemingly bodily-unconscious moms whose only concern was being present with their kids.
I saw all of this and wondered what they were thinking about as they hustled and bustled or sat and stared. Were they nervous? Were they annoyed? Had they had a good morning or a bad one? Had they seen another mom in the museum and compared what little of her story they thought they knew to their own?
Thanks to news media and social media, it’s easy to think there’s a right way and a wrong way to be a mom; a good way and a better way. But, really, we’re all just trying to do the best we can out here.
There’s no one way to be a mom.
I’ll admit I’m the first to struggle with comparing myself to other moms—to one in particular. We’re pretty similar: interests, vocation, mother of sons, temperament, personality type, etc. So, it’s easy for me to see her do something that’s different from my way and then go on to assume her “different” must equate “better”. But it doesn’t, necessarily. And honestly—it doesn’t, normally.
Because her normal is different than my normal.
Her routines are not my own.
Her concerns about parenting/lifestyle are likely at least somewhat varied from mine.
None of that is good or bad. It just is what it is; it’s just reality. She wouldn’t want me comparing myself to her because she knows as well as I do that my reality is separate from hers. My story is different from hers. So, why in the world would I waste any time at all comparing two stories that are completely separate from one another other than that they’re both at work within the Greater Narrative, within THE Story? Why not spend the time I have inside THE Story sharing and learning from and cheering her and others on—as moms or otherwise?
Because I’m human. :)
But lest I forget...we are all creatures who belong to God, to God’s greater narrative, and thus, to each other. We are tethered and bound to one another by a love that is nearly unexplainable and certainly unstoppable.
From what I gather, God would much rather us use the energy we possess to live our own stories well in love than beat ourselves up over our story not looking like someone else’s. I don’t think that was ever the point.
So, Mama:
The next time you start to compare yourself, beat yourself up, or doubt yourself because your story doesn’t look like that of another mom...remember that your story is not hers; neither is hers your own. Each story is good and important individually and even better when it comes alongside that of another inside THE Narrative of the One who made us and calls us Their own.
And, most of all, remember:
There’s no one way to be a mom.
(You’re doing better than you think!)
Peace,
PMK
