It surprises me, actually, that Mark and I have a motto, but we do. At our basic core, we're not the motto type; but years ago, when we were living in a 560 sq.ft. apartment with three children under the age of four, life demanded a motto and so as life became less and less glamorous and fun, and more and more demanding and messy, we would simply look at each other in the heat and frustration and fatigue of the moment and say, "Love and surrender, baby." That not only encouraged patience and humility, turning up the music and dancing in the living room rather than passing out spanks and locking the little shits in their room, but it reminded us that we were in it together, and together we could do it. Anyway, I started really thinking about what it means to surrender to motherhood and why I just couldn't seem to do it when I got pregnant with Declan and now even more so as I struggle with the responsibility of raising five children. When I say surrender, I don't mean giving up and waving a white flag of cowardice, neither do I mean it as an act of subservience, something I'm going to do only because I have to. I don't think this kind of surrendering, the surrendering of parent to a child, should feel like I'm losing anything, but rather that I'm willfully giving something to someone with no expectation of getting anything in return.
Marko said, "What I mean by surrender comes from an older use of the verb that means: 'to abandon for the sake of another; to abandon oneself or devote oneself entirely to.'" I think, as usual, he's on to something.
I noticed something very interesting when we were in Disneyland as I people watched on various benches throughout the park, waiting for my family of coaster enthusiasts or watching over a slumbering Decco. I noticed a lot of really miserable parents. A lot. And most of them only had one or two children, in contrast to my soon to be five. I kept thinking, "What are they complaining about?" because at the time, I was still feeling really sorry for myself. Anyway, I noticed a grown man throwing a tantrum because he couldn't go on his ride of choice. I noticed an incensed mother unsuccessfully cleaning melting Mickey ice cream from the front of her daughter's dress with baby wipes. And again, I think it all comes down to surrendering. These parents hadn't surrendered. I could see it all over their tight, put-out faces, in the angry rise of their voices, the hunch of their shoulders, as they pushed around strollers heavy laden with sippy cups and snacks. They were thinking, "Remember how easy it used to be before kids? Why did we do this? It's such a drag. It would be so much easier...." I know this because I've said those things before. Out loud and in a really whiny voice.
And it occurred to me then, as I ferried four kids around the park 7-months pregnant with my fifth, that it doesn't matter if you have one child or six, (I know parents of only children who are far more miserable than I am), in fact it doesn't just apply to parents at all. If we are to find any pleasure in loving at all, we must surrender. We must surrender self-interest, independence, control, comfort. We must relinquish our stubborn and selfish grip on these things, not because we're tired and we can't hold on any longer, but because we want to embrace something better, something far more important.
And so I continue to pry each of my fingers loose so that I can love as I should.
P.S. Eleanor just greased my bathroom with butter (don't ask) and I'm heading in to another sleepless night with Malcolm, aka Worst Sleeper Ever. Love and surrender, baby.
7 comments:
That was a beautiful essay. I laughed and teared up through the whole thing. Amen. Amen
Ann, this is Kathi Whiting and I just wanted to congratulate you on #5 and tell you...your thoughts on love are profound and insightful, in life, we must surrender to love...
thanks for sharing your thoughts.
Kathi
Ann, I swear I love you more every time you write a new post. I love so much about what you said. And I completely feel for you with Mr. Worst Sleeper Ever. I have a couple of those, and I'm completely panicked for the day #3 arrives and then I have three of them tag-teaming me all night long. Remind me to tell you about my first week home with Charlotte...I'll email you when I get a sec.
Besides your wisdom and how you're so right about it all, my very favorite thing is knowing that I'm not the only one who calls my kids little shits.
so beautiful, ann.
think i'll frame this and put it on (all of) my wall(s).
so well said.
This couldn't have come at a better time having been up the past FOREVER with one sick kid, then two sick kids, then three sick kids. In fact, I was thinking of the other kind of surrender last night. You know, the, get out of dodge surrender. So thanks. I think my motto needs to be the same. Love you!
I remember the moment my surrender came. For me it became the difference between "have to" and "get to." I realized I had deliberately decided to bring these children into the world and there was no going back. I had no control over my kid's temperament, no control over my husband's lack of help, no control over my mother in law's distaste for babysitting, no control over the fact I had not met any friends yet to rely on for help, no control that everyone who cared about me lived far, far away, no control over the fact we had no money so we couldn't even afford a babysitter, but I could change my attitude. Instead of always looking for a break or a chance to escape, I was going to love every second I spent with my boys. Even if I never got a break, I was going to love my life. The transformation in me was amazing, I went from being a slightly sad mother of two, who was totally done, to a mom who wanted 6 kids and was so grateful for the ride. Love and Surrender is a beautiful motto.
Ann, you are such a good writer and are always able to bring people together through sharing these common experiences. I'm glad you make time for blogging.
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