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<\/a>Our kids came to us in dribs and drabs. \u00a0Our eldest (18 years old) is our only biological child. \u00a0It irked me for some years that we couldn\u2019t spontaneously produce the kind of sizable brood that holds up Fast and Testimony meeting each month. \u00a0But when our boy was 10 we kind of got into a rhythm and figured we should just exploit our unique advantage. \u00a0We were living in Taiwan at the time and were about to head off to the UK for Nathan to finish his PhD. \u00a0Our family was portable and manageable, and we had a kind of ease between us that we put down to our eldest being a really neat kid who seemed the perfect blend of us both. \u00a0 Then a phone call came from NZ asking us to adopt a baby due to be born to a young family member. \u00a0We didn\u2019t think twice about it and wee Squawky joined our family. \u00a0 This impish little thing, who didn\u2019t come with an off button, \u00a0could be an angel one minute and demon child the next. \u00a0Any doubts I had ever had about the efficacy of astrology was dispatched as our Gemini burst in on our lives with all of his contradictory colours and shades. \u00a0 A couple of years later we were asked to take a sibling group (more of Nathan\u2019s family- not mine) \u00a0including infant twins and a toddler. \u00a0Two years after that we added the eldest brother of that sibling group. \u00a0 I\u2019ve since \u00a0put up the \u2018Closed for further business\u2019 sign.<\/p>\nI often \u00a0think back to what could have been. \u00a0This week we farewelled our eldest (notice I don\u2019t use his name for fear of reprisals), who, with backpack in hand set out for a three week holiday around Singapore, Cambodia, Thailand, and Taiwan with his mate Tom. \u00a0When he comes back he embarks on his first year of University and at the end of the year plans to go on his mission. \u00a0It almost makes me cry when I think about what we have given up for a household of crazy. \u00a0We\u2019d get to keep most of our money for one; Saturday mornings would be leisurely and peaceful; There would be quiet; The washing pile would be modest; Dinners would involve engaging banter rather than threats and punishments for ponderous and reluctant eating and \u00a0illegal encroachments into other people\u2019s personal space respectively. \u00a0 The list of benefits that we have relinquished is so exhaustive that sometimes I experience shudders of grief at an inestimable personal loss.<\/p>\n
And therein lies the problem of praying to a male God for guidance and direction, particularly one with a \u2018She\u2019ll be right\u2019 attitude. \u00a0I\u2019m sure the God of our modern understanding was a New Zealander in a previous life, because that\u2019s the kind of disposition I think he has, without the Speights and the Swanndri. \u00a0\u2018She\u2019ll be right\u2019 (for those of you reading this from across the seas) is probably akin to saying \u2018Don\u2019t sweat the small stuff\u2019 or, \u2018It will all turn out OK in the end\u2019. \u00a0I\u2019m inclined to think that \u00a0on the subject of children he may need to take some advisement. \u00a0Because it might just not \u2018be right\u2019. \u00a0It might be all wrong. \u00a0This emphasis on the glories of motherhood and the wonders of family that we Mormon girls have all been subject to throughout our lives is a ruse that needs to be cracked wide open because I do believe the feminisation of that colloquialism is no mistake. \u00a0Women tend to be at the very heart of getting things right \u2013 and its no picnic.<\/p>\n
Look, \u00a0I can\u2019t deny the fact that there was a significant amount of spiritual input from on high which gave us an undeniable nudge as we pondered whether on not we would go down this road of excessive parenthood, but \u00a0all of those warm fuzzies, and \u2018yes my child\u2019 promptings kind of ended when each child showed up. \u00a0Its like they all came with a tag saying, \u00a0\u2018Good on ya for taking this wee fulla. \u00a0He\u2019s yours for a bit \u2013 she\u2019ll be right, have a good one, Love God (PS: \u00a0No instructions, guarantees or returns)\u2019<\/em>. \u00a0And that\u2019s the rub \u2013 in order to get to the \u2018she\u2019ll be right\u2019 there\u2019s a hellava lot of thinking, strategizing, wondering, worrying, planning, sacrificing, organizing, reorganizing, rethinking, that has to take place. \u00a0What\u2019s more, I don\u2019t really see the level of activity in getting everything \u2018right\u2019 to be \u00a0equally shared across both genders in my observations of heterosexual relationships. \u00a0The men in our lives seem to have \u00a0adopted God\u2019s, \u2018She\u2019ll be right\u201d attitude and have really run with it.<\/p>\n Take for instance last night. \u00a0We were at Finn\u2019s school BBQ and were chatting to Michael. \u00a0Who it turns out has 4 boys and looks like a lawyer. \u00a0When I asked him who his son\u2019s teacher was last year he looked a bit cornered. \u00a0There was absolutely nothing there, not even a first syllable or a phonetic sound. \u00a0He cast his eyes around the milling crowd of eager mothers displaying their familial diligence with an assortment of well constructed salads, and on his second sweep his eyes fell on the woman right in front of us. \u00a0With relief he burst out eagerly, \u2018That one. Her!!\u2019, as he stabbed the air. \u00a0(This was the same fellow who asked in the \u2018meet the teacher\u2019 phase of the evening whether or not it was better to read to children or wait till they can read to you \u2013 so I expect there was an intellectual limitation \u00a0which I\u2019m not really contextualizing). \u00a0I imagine that if you asked his wife, she \u00a0could have written a biography about all of her son\u2019s past teachers and included a commentary from the 20 or so other mothers she had canvassed on the subject.<\/p>\n I just feel sometimes we mothers get \u2018landed in it\u2019 with all the best intentions in the world, only to look around to find our \u2018eternal companions\u2019 with the proverbial TV remote in their hand \u2013 occupied by yet something else that only concerns them. \u00a0Sure, they come alive with interest when one of their children is doing something that reminds them of themselves, or fills the gap that failure left in their own childhood. \u00a0But in between there\u2019s a lot of \u2018she\u2019ll be right\u2019 or backhanded comments that our motherly interest in getting our children \u2018right\u2019 might be a bit OTT.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t think its helped a great deal by the set up at church. \u00a0Nathan is now inoculated from the vicissitudes of parenthood at church by the requirement for him to be seated on the stand in sacrament meetings with the understanding that his children will only join them under exceptional circumstances, as having children with him might diminish his authority in some way. \u00a0Men never have to run the gauntlet of being called as the Primary President, and while women are running RS and YW meetings with children swirling around their feet, \u00a0men \u00a0don\u2019t often manage the competing demands of adult and child interactions to make combining the two efficacious.<\/p>\n And so we women are left to deal with the fiddly middle bits. \u00a0The detail. \u00a0Might I say, there is scant regard in masculine circles for the task of working out detail. \u00a0The beginning part of parenthood is taken as a sign of male virility while the end bit, as son becomes man, and enters successfully upon the world is taken as a sign of his own masculine superiority. \u00a0But the work of the between seems to be the unacknowledged terrain of motherhood. \u00a0To be honest, its a bit of a burden that makes that image of shining, glorious motherhood more of a romantic fantasy than a genuine account of the feminine condition. \u00a0I\u2019m tired of being told by men at church that there is glory in motherhood. \u00a0I\u2019m done with the effusive accounts of home cooked meals and \u2018she was always there for me\u2019 stories from the pulpit. \u00a0I just wish blokes would get real (including God) and offer on the platter of our parental experience some glimmer of recognition that burdening women with the primary task of figuring out the details does little else than clog the phone lines with the rumble of woman to woman marital discontent.<\/p>\n A final story. \u00a0Back to last night at Finn\u2019s school BBQ. One of our five year old twins decided to take a dump in the playground. \u00a0We were assailed by a couple of the older boys who announced, \u201cXander has pooed on the ground and he\u2019s got it all up his arm\u201d. \u00a0I turned to Nathan and said; \u2018Can you take care of it please?\u201d \u00a0Knowing in my heart of hearts that it was really me that needed to deal with this appalling fecal mishap I disengaged from a delightful conversation to investigate. \u00a0I came upon Nathan emerging from the forest playground shaking his head with incredulity. \u00a0I hopefully took this as a sign of \u2018tattle tales\u2019 and sibling story telling. \u00a0But no. \u00a0Xander was indeed standing beside a steaming pile of personal dung, with crap up the waazoo and a large group of diminutive male commentators remarking with enthusiasm on the texture, shape and smell of said anal extrusion. \u00a0I looked around to find any sign whatsoever of Nathan having \u2018dealt\u2019 with the situation but was once again disappointed. \u00a0So I took Xander by the scruff of the neck, cleaned him up in the bathroom, piled him into the car and took him home \u00a0in a fit of rage that I\u2019m astounded now \u00a0didn\u2019t make me veer off the road to the cadence of my voluminous rantings. \u00a0I showered him and sent him to bed. \u00a0When I asked him why he shouldn\u2019t poo in the garden his reply was, \u2018Cause, I might get told off\u2019.<\/p>\n When Nathan got home I asked him, \u2018Did you get rid of the poo so the other kids don\u2019t stand in it\u2019. \u00a0He looked at me with bewilderment, \u201cEw, yuck no, I didn\u2019t want to go near that stuff\u2026. By the way, did you clean Xander up before you put him in my Mini? \u00a0I don\u2019t want crap all over the seat.\u201d<\/p>\n I rest my case.<\/p>\n Our kids came to us in dribs and drabs. \u00a0Our eldest (18 years old) is our only biological child. \u00a0It irked me for some years that we couldn\u2019t spontaneously produce the kind of sizable brood that holds up Fast and Testimony meeting each month. \u00a0But when our boy was 10 we kind of got into […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1182,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-218","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n