Joyful Sacrifices

Yesterday I was sitting in the foyer of Quincy's school reading a book and minding my own business. I do that for half an hour every Friday morning, that half hour in-between the time she heads to class and I show up to help with centers. I really love that half hour of sitting, reading, making a shopping list, and watching kids walking as fast as they can down the hallway without actually running, their little bodies jerking unnaturally as they try to make their stiff legs move faster and faster. This week Mrs. G joined me on the bench. She and her husband volunteer at the school so much, that if I didn't know better I would think they worked there. She started talking about how excited she was to be going to her nephews graduation from medical school. I smiled proudly and told her that I had just attended my husbands graduation from medical school. Then she started telling me how in debt they are, that she had personally co-signed on some of his loans, and how he'll be working like 80 hours a week for the next several years and making something akin to $8 per hour. I smiled again, a little smaller smile, and told her I know how that goes - or at least I know that I will know. Then Mrs. G starting talking about how her nephews wife is pregnant again, and how she is not using her 4 year degree, and why are they having another child when they are barely making it to start with? I don't think I smiled this time, I thought about the 4 year degree that I haven't really put to practical use yet, and I looked down at my belly that's 7 months pregnant, and I didn't really know how to respond to her. Luckily at that moment Mr. G came along, hit her with a newspaper, and I got my chance to slip away to the kindergartners.

Seventeen years ago, when I was only fourteen, a very wise man who loved me very much, my grandfather, told me that my "children will a blessing to you; the greatest joy in your life." At that time I thought "well, ya, that's pretty generic, any mother will say that her children are a joy to her," but I was also pretty involved in the care of my siblings, and had an inkling of the amount of work that children are. I really didn't comprehend how the word joy could truly be what I would feel when I got to have that work for my own. Now, with 2.75 of my own, I realize how incredibly wise and inspired my grandfather was. My children truly are a great joy, the greatest joy in my life.

The Cambridge English Dictionary defines joy simply: "great happiness; a person or thing which causes happiness." Such simple definitions for so great an emotion.

Last month, around Mothers Day, I was thinking about the sacrifices that mothers make for their children. It starts early with days, weeks, months (depends on who you are) of nausea and vomiting. Then there's the general tiredness and fatigue. Soon awkward, stretched, and lumbering join in. Then the pain. After that more fatigue, this time due to the lack of deep sleep. Then more lack of sleep, and more lack of sleep. Then there's the not getting to sit all the way through a meal, because inevitably the baby is fussiest right when you sit down for a minute. There's the inconvenience of nursing. I know, I know, they say nursing is totally convenient, but I beg to differ. If I didn't know that nursing was best for my child, it would be Similac all the way - really, who likes to have to partially undress and risk exposure of that whenever they go out? It's why I never leave my house for 12 months after each child - they don't like to stay under the blanket. Eventually you get to give up any "thinking in your own head" that you may like to do, because two year olds never shut up, and you will feel like you no longer have your own head. Then you get to give up any television programs you enjoy, or evening activities you might like, because 4 year olds stay up for at least part of prime-time, and they ask what words mean. And once you get them to bed you're too tired to enjoy what's left of primetime. I'm sure I'll have things to add to this list the older my children get.

So, Mrs. G., why do we do this to ourselves, on purpose? Because, children can be our greatest joy. All of these sacrifices, and more, somehow bring us joy. I forget all the pregnancy misery for a few moments when I hold my brand new baby and feel their soft hair on my cheek. It only takes a few weeks of my 18 month old (yes, mine take that long) sleeping through the night to forget how tired I was for the previous two years. And somehow, I've learned to enjoy meals, even when I have to get up 5 times for different things, in fact, on the rare occasion when Israel and I go out alone and have a meal, it seems rather boring. Don't tell Israel. Breastfeeding, well, I never forget how much I dislike that, but baby's do get weened, eventually

. When it comes to no longer having my own head, well, whatever used to go on inside my melon was pretty dull compared to what goes on with Quincy and Max in there. I don't mind sharing with them at all. Not to mention how awesome it feels when you realize that useful things from your head have transferred to theirs, and they begin doing things like counting by two's, and reading. No more grown up TV or personal time (I guess if you like to stay up late you get it, but I just don't) - well, I love the evening snuggles, and Disney Movies, and all that other stuff was just trash anyway.

People talk about how lucky you are if you love your job. As far as I'm concerned, these kids are my job right now, and I don't think I'll ever have another job that will bring more joy. I admit, I do think about the day when I can further my education, and put those degrees to work in a way that will make the world a better place. I look forward to the days when I only have to get myself dressed. I look forward to evenings when I can read, or garden, or watch grown up TV, or go out with friends. But right now, I'm lucky, because I'm really enjoying what I do everyday - the little routines - dressing, feeding, teaching, nurturing, playing, working, enjoying, right now these things bring me joy. And if anything is sacrificed, it's a joyful sacrifice.