Little Heather holds two new barbies in her hands. She makes then face each other. She then uses a monotone voice to narrate a conversation between the two as she bobs them, respectively, up and down so that anyone who may (or may not) be watching knows which barbie is saying what.
Barbie 1: Hey how are you?
Barbie 2: Fine, how are you?
Barbie 1: I'm bored.
Little Heather then throws both barbies down and tells mom she's bored.
Nope, I wasn't the barbie-type. I liked baby dolls. I vividly remember getting my first baby doll one Christmas morning. Her name was Kelley, she was born on March 17th (St. Patrick's day and my grandfather's birthday). Kelley had on an outfit that could not be removed. Her outfit was fitted with such attachments that it taught me to button, zip, snap, and--the one I had the hardest time with--tie. She had horribly ugly blonde curly hair, but luckily there was a hood attached to her that covered her hair--it only came off to show people how ugly her hair was. Kelley was sitting on a new pink and green bike that Christmas morning. I think I was more excited about the doll. Unfortunately, she was in my Honda when it was stolen, otherwise she'd probably be on a shelf on the wall in my new apartment.
Followed by Kelley I received many other cabbage patch dolls. I remember pitching fits to get my parents to take me to get Freida (mom hated her name because she had a teacher in gradeschool named Freida and she was mean) and Ali, who was admittedly much cuter than Freida. I'm sure I got other dolls, but those three were my favorites. I had a little stroller and I would take them to the mall with me. Once, a woman told me my baby doll looked real. Now I know she was lying, but at the time it made my day. For these dolls I also had car seats so that they were safe when we were riding to and from the mall; and I would yell at my mom if she started driving before the doll was buckled in properly.
I fed the dolls, gave them naps, and changed their diapers. I used my allowance to buy them *gasp* real baby clothes (at consignment stores), which I also pitched fits to go to. By the age of five I wanted to help in the infant room at day care and, honestly, didn't understand why I couldn't--I was SO good with my baby dolls!
By seven I wanted to be a pediatric cardio surgeon. More than that, I wanted to be mother. I really wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. I dreamed of doing laundry, cleaning, and taking care of children while my husband was at work; and, in my world, when he came home I had dinner cooked and children bathed--it was true bliss.
Fast forward to fifteen years later.
For a month and a half I was, what I called, a part-time mom. Officially my title was "Nanny." I cooked-ish and cleaned. I did laundry, bathed the younger girl, and made sure all the other little tasks were done so the mother could relax and spend time with her girls when she got home. I was amazed at all the bureaucracy that went along with being a mother. All the "her mom did this" and "that girl said that" and "she doesn't like me anymore." But my boss, she could look past all of that and see her two beautiful girls and know it's all worth it.
What really amazed me was how turned off I was by suburbia. The childhood dream I once had has become a nightmare. I could look the part in a heartbeat. I have clothes in my closet RIGHT NOW that would have me pinned as Mrs. Suburbia by any mother in any supermarket in America. But, honestly, I hope I am never there.
Don't get me wrong, I still am instilled with a strong desire to clean and cook. I want so badly to have a man that I respect enough to *enjoy* doing his laundry and cleaning our home so he can relax--even after I come home from work. I really do desire to serve a man for the rest of my life. What I don't desire: being a "soccer mom." I honestly have no desire to have children. I believe there is a life out there that will be so much more fulfilling to me than being a mother. Many of my friends have told me that I will change my mind; and if I do, that's great. However, it's my prerogative to decide if I want children or not and no matter how many times I've been told what an amazing mother I'll be--I don't have to be one. I am truly excited by the thought of working and being a servant wife, but--right now, at least--I feel only dread when I think of raising children.
So, thank you to everyone who has told me I will be a great mother! That is truly a compliment and a take it honestly. And thank you to everyone who has tried to talk me out of this "craziness" as it is often seen. I have to believe that the Lord has taken this desire out of me for a reason. Maybe I'm not physically capable of having children and He doesn't want to disappoint me. I know, however, that He has a life planned for me that I will enjoy more than any life I could plan for myself. So I will embrace my desires no matter what mold I have cast for myself. And I will break it as He calls me to. :)
Oh, what freedom we have in Him!
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