It still amazes me that my parents were able to raise eight children. There is a sixteen-year age difference between the youngest and the oldest, so at one time we were all under the same roof. One of us was in diapers, while another slept on rubber sheets. One waited for underarm hair to grow, while another shaved it off. One was using training wheels, and another was in a training bra.
I asked my mom recently, “Where did you find the strength to raise eight children?”
“I did what I had to do in order to survive,” she said. “It’s a whole lot easier to put up with y’all today, though. Now when my kids irritate me, I can just take the phone off of the hook and lock the front door.”
But what about a young mother who doesn’t have that option? How does she balance diaper changes, dance recitals and shopping for children who grow out of shoes and jeans every month? Where does she find the strength?
My sister-in-law, Jessica, is the mother of three children; Braxton, age 11, Brooke, age 10 and Brylee, age 3. To round out her children’s education, she spends a large part of her time driving them around to different activities like dancing, baseball, basketball, swimming lessons, catechism, karate, and roping lessons.
“The most challenging part of being a mom is not having enough time during the day to get things done,” says Jessica. “The best part is seeing the world through my children’s eyes and always having a house full of fun and laughs.”
Jessica believes in parenting by example. She gives all three of her children chores to do so they can learn how to be responsible.
“All you can do is teach them right from wrong,” says Jessica. “As they grow older, my role with them will change. I’m going to have to trust them more, and give them freedom and space.”
Jessica’s most memorable moments with her children are those of their birth. She says she can remember them like they were yesterday.
“There are too many special moments of being a mother to choose a favorite one,” says Jessica. “A new one is made every time I hear Brylee say, ‘I love you so much, Mom.’”
For about a week after Brylee was born, I picked up Brooke and Braxton from school and watched them for a few hours. One day, I decided to take them to Kaplan to get ice cream. My first indication that this would be an adventurous ride was while I was driving, and my nephew thought it would be hilarious if he put a magazine over my face.
We made it to the store safely, though, and when we did Brooke pushed her brother into a potato chip display, spreading Funyuns and Cheetos all over the floor of Piggly Wiggly. When I dropped the children off with their grandmother later that day, I never looked back and little bits of gravel and dirt shot out from beneath my back tires.
But Jessica takes a different approach in her parenting. She patiently practices baseball with Braxton, dances with Brooke, and does Sponge Bob imitations with Brylee. Her advice to a new mother is that being a parent is not easy, but worth every minute of it.
“There are difficult challenges,” says Jessica. “But that’s something all mom’s face. Knowing that I’m not alone helps me tremendously.”
I interviewed Jessica at her home a few hours before Brooke’s dance recital. The mom made time for me even though she had the responsibility to make her daughter look like a ballerina, and her other two children put on pants. When Braxton did put on jeans, the bottom of them reached somewhere between his knees and ankles.
“These are the only pants I could find,” Braxton said.
“That’s impossible,” Jessica replied. “I just bought those for you. How did you outgrow them already?”
The mom disappeared and returned a few seconds later with an appropriate sized pair of pants for her son. Then she brushed Brylee’s hair while simultaneously applying theatre make-up on Brooke.
My mother said that in order to be a mom, she had to do whatever it took to survive. When she told me this, I imagined a log cabin out in the wilderness. My mom was milking a cow while one child sat on her back, one on her knee, and one on top of the heifer named Betsy. Suddenly an intruder rode up on horseback and my mom locked her children in the cabin and grabbed a rifle.
“I’m a mom,” she said to the intruder. “Take one step closer and I’ll do what I have to do in order to survive.”
I realize now that there’s probably a good chance that this never happened. But it was my interpretation of a parent’s survival until my afternoon with Jessica. She took care of all of her children’s needs in stride, and never blinked an eye. She was surviving, and doing a great job.
“How do you handle the constant chaos of being a mom?” I asked. “Where do you get the strength?”
“From my own mom, and my husband, Jude,” she said. “I relieve stress by taking walks and cooking. There’s nothing like a good meal at the end of the day with my family. Being with them gives me strength.”
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