I don’t have to look to hard to find ways that our lives our different than most. I think that sometimes I start to forget, but then something always happens to remind me.
Last week there was a “Dessert Day” at my husband’s office where everyone brought in a dessert for a pot-luck style gathering. My husband asked me to make an apple pie. I gathered all the supplies and ingredients that I needed and put on my apron, and Jacob asked me “What are you going to make today, Mama?”. I told him that I was making a pie, and he said “Oh with apples?”. “Yes sweetie, an apple pie.”
My husband works with quite a few younger people, and most of the people there are very career driven. There aren’t many family men there, and certainly not others with “large” families or wives who are homemakers. It made me think, “I wonder how many of these people have ever even had a homemade pie?” I don’t mean that in a judgemental way, I just mean that the world has changed so much and that it seems that homemakers in aprons are a dying breed. It makes me realize even more so how different our children’s lives are than most. My sons see me in an apron all of the time. Jacob knows what a rolling pin is used for, and that flour usually means that something is about to be baked. When he sees bread or cookies or anything else of that nature he assumes that I made it. He probably has no idea that you can even buy bread at the store. He doesn’t know about television commercials and every time we hear “secular” music at a store or something he asks “What is that sound?” He doesn’t know that there are mommies who go to work, or that some children go to day-cares or public school, and while some may say that we are sheltering them, I think that it is sweet. Our children know that everyday I will be here with them, I will be here to change every diaper, wipe every runny nose, kiss every owie, and teach every school lesson.
When the boys woke up from their nap yesterday, Jacob asked if he could play with one of the bins in their room.( all of the toys are organized into bins under the beds, and they can play with one bin at a time. this helps to keep the mess to a minimum) I told him that he could and he said “Thank you mama for making these bins for me. It is very nice to have my toys in bins.”
And last week we were in school and I had the boys coloring pictures of the cross, and I asked Jacob if he knew what the cross meant. And he said “Of course, it means Jesus loves me!”
We get comments nearly every time we go anywhere, and they range from the simple “wow you have your hands full” to “well aren’t you lucky to get to stay home” to “your family is really neat” to “so you’re done having kids right?”. We have received sweet smiles, looks of absolute disgust, kind comments, and outright snotty remarks. Most of the mean looks tend to come from other women, as if my being a dress-wearing homemaker and mother of little blessings is personally offensive to them and I am personally trying to turn back the clock a few hundred years. (although that would be nice….) I have learned to not let these bother me (ok, well I am still learning, but I am much better about it).
I know that our lives our different. We don’t plop down in front of the television at the end of the day, or all go our seperate ways to each do our own thing. We like being together as a family, we like talking with each other, and singing together. And when we all sit together on the living room sofa and sing and cuddle, I know there is no place that I’d rather be. I love that when I wake the boys up in the morning they tell each other good morning. And l love that when baby Joe cries both Jacob and Joshua want to kiss or hug him or do something to help. And I love who Joseph smiles the biggest at his brothers, and how Joshua looks up to Jacob as his hero. I love how Jacob wants to be just like Daddy. I love how my husband thinks that I am at my most beautiful when I wear a bow in my hair, and how Jacob always tells me that I am beautiful when I wear pink. I love that Jacob races to open the door for me and how all of the boys will put their faces up against mine when I sing to them. Joshua will watch my mouth so closely when I sing to him, as if he is studying every little movement. And Jacob has always loved for me to sing right into his ear. I love that the boys have seen yardage of fabric being cut, pieced and sewn into a dress, or a ball of yarn become a knitted blanket.
Our world may be sugary sweet for some, but I can’t imagine it any other way. I don’t want the life that “everyone” has. I have a life where I am cherished for being in the role that God created for me, as help-meet, mother and keeper at home.
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