Thoughts on nesting and letting go

This week I embraced a spring ritual, common for many but new to me -- spring cleaning. A book I stumbled across at the library titled, “How to Cheat at Organizing” inspired me.

Over the last few days, I have attacked several of our home’s catchall places for stuff using the author’s “Four S” organizing scheme – strip, scrap, sort, store. Unfortunately, I’ve discovered in the process that just about every storage place in our house could be mistaken as a “junk drawer.”

This weekend I took the “4S” mantra to the garage, tackling step one -- strip -- on one of the windiest days of the year. As I chased an extra-large dog kennel that was tumbling rapidly uncontrollably down the street and fought back several runaway bikes and lids, I decided this probably wasn’t my best moment in front of the neighbors.

But it wasn’t my worst either. Last month, they watched me run barefoot through the snow in my pajamas chasing after an errant puppy and screaming in a voice more shrill than Hillary Clinton at a political rally.

As I was weeding through our dusty possessions and shuffling things into piles in the garage, it occurred to me that I wasn’t just simplifying, I was un-nesting. Baby gadgets that we’ve outgrown and no longer need to save for another hopeful little life dominated a large pile of give-away items. The jog stroller given to me by my sisters, a baby buggy, baby swing, even many of the baby manuals that were like a Bible to me as a new mom are now looking for another home.

For the record, I am too sentimental than is reasonably healthy for one human being. So, transitions like this definitely give me reason to pause.

As I drove through town this weekend, I saw evidence of others facing a far bigger transition: moms and dads living in homes draped with “Congratulations Graduate” banners. They welcome guests with a brave smile, but I suspect many wear a heavy heart inside.

And rightly so … Think back to the nesting parallel. Expecting parents work so hard to build a comfortable and loving “nest” for their new babies. Family and friends fill it with gear. When babies arrive, we wrap our wings around them and provide for their every need. We feed, carry, clothe, nurture, discipline and console. We teach them how to eat, walk, talk, run, bike, read, pray, write, and countless other essential, unique or just-plain-handy skills.

While the moments as a parent sometimes seem like eternity, the years pass us by in a flash. All too quickly, our babies are ready to fly on their own. They take off to build their own nest, leaving ours all too empty.

As I struggle now to part with baby gear and say good-bye to my era of childbearing, I realize it’s just another small step on the amazing, challenging, emotional journey as a parent.

We might be able to cheat at organizing, but there’s no cheating on this job.

I’m thankful for now that I’m not my neighbor down the hill who has a “Congratulations Graduate” sign on their front door. I’m tempted to walk down and add another, more appropriate sign, beside it. Mine would read, “Congratulations Parents”. Enjoy your new era as free birds!

Motherhood is a Most Important Job

I was in the kitchen when an urgent declaration from my two-year-old drew me upstairs. As I neared the top, I saw him standing on the landing, wearing a huge smile and holding a plastic cup overflowing with Number 2. The rest was spread, like only a toddler can do, throughout our upper level.

That pretty much ended early potty training efforts with our youngest child. As I was cleaning up this mess, I remembered someone telling me once, “I work because I want to do something more important than changing dirty diapers.” At that point, I would have rejoiced at a dirty diaper.

Every parent, whether working outside or inside the home, feels exasperated by the job at times. But this statement, “I want to do something more important than changing dirty diapers,” saddens me. It represents an attitude all too prevalent in our culture -- an attitude that diminishes the importance of motherhood in order to elevate the value of women in the workplace.

The biggest problem with this statement is that it is simply wrong. Not wrong to want or need a job or career, but wrong and completely unnecessary to demean the relevance of mothering in the process.

Let’s be honest, considering the challenges children face today with hard-core drugs, violence, depression and any number of issues relating to the Internet, I can’t imagine a time when there was a greater demand or urgency for active, nosey moms (and dads) who are well-connected to their children.

Our society needs parents who are engaged, inspired and supported in their calling. We would be well-served by uplifting them in their duties through more initiatives like job sharing, flexible work schedules and even tax breaks for families who chose to devote one parent to full-time childrearing.

The truth about parenting is that it is plain hard work. It demands patience, creativity, commitment, and the ability to find value in the daily grind of serving others with very little immediate gratification. Our culture should offer unwavering support and encouragement for this essential vocation.

With Mother’s Day fast approaching on Sunday, my thoughts are on my mom. Aside from one year of teaching immediately after college, she never “worked.” But her resume boasts a list of accomplishments I will never be able to repeat.

For starters, between her kids and grandchildren, she has had a powerful hand in the development of 46 individuals. Her resume includes service to shut-ins, elderly, our church, friends and neighbors. All of this would have been lost had she chosen to do something “more important.”

True, she had to change some dirty diapers along the way – thousands of them. And since disposable diapers weren’t available back then, she washed all of those diapers too. In this respect, it wasn’t a very glamorous job.

But my mom took great pride in her work and I have wonderful childhood memories as a result of her extra effort. What I remember most though is simply that she was there. I remember walking through the door after school and yelling, “Hi mom!” and she was always there for me.

Her job title might not impress people at a cocktail party. But if you measure “importance” in terms of value to society, it’s virtually impossible to put a price tag on her accomplishments.

To that I say, thanks mom. I’m glad you didn’t let a few dirty diapers discourage you from the most important job on earth.