Modern Day Eves

My daughter Carrie is the consummate wife and mother. She often bakes her own bread, sews pajamas for her little ones, prepares exquisite meals, chauffeurs her children to and from school and a host of other activities, and has a demanding church calling. She’s a gifted photographer, excellent writer, and faithful blogger. And did I mention that her husband is the bishop of their ward? And that she’s a stay-at-home mom? She is. And she’s remarkably good at it too. She has her “finger on the pulse” of everyone’s moods, proclivities, concerns, and needs. Warm and gentle, she can also turn into a strict disciplinarian when needed…and into a tigress if anyone says anything disparaging about her husband or children. In my somewhat biased opinion, she’s the perfect Mormon mom…and wife too.

I, on the other hand, worked full-time throughout the entirety of my children’s youth. Sure, I took time off for their deliveries but returned to work shortly thereafter. I hated leaving them when they were babies, and it still makes my heart hurt. Still, I tried not to think about it too much, for I could see that it was necessary. Time went by, and my little brood got older. Working didn’t seem so odious anymore. In fact, I rather enjoyed it and the “say-do” it gave me in our family’s financial decisions. I once read in a sociology text that women who didn’t work outside of the home were in the same position as unpaid servants. Not too desirable, I thought. I liked not having to ask for money or for permission to buy an occasional bauble. Plus, I know my husband appreciated that I was a helpmeet to him.

At home, I was a loving wife and mother-just like Carrie. I even went through a season of baking bread; I was fascinated with yeast and its powerful properties. Too, I loved the way baking bread made the house smell and the happiness it brought my family to taste the home baked bread. Although I wasn’t a gourmet cook like my daughter, I managed to prepare meals every night, and it was important that we eat together. I also went through a smocking stage, and my little girls were the most adorable ones in church with their little smocked dresses. I even smocked a couple of little outfits for Paul. Cross stitching, crewel, and candle wicking also had their season. As the children got older, I was their chauffeur and their biggest fan at dance recitals, church activities, and sporting events. In church together every Sunday, we were a model family.

Ah, in church. That’s where I got the most flak about being a working mother. I knew in my heart of hearts (whatever in heaven’s name that means) that my children “might” be better off if I’d been in the home 24/7. I knew that our church leaders encouraged moms to stay with their children during their formative years. I KNEW all of that, but it didn’t change our circumstances, and hearing it week after week was guilt producing and hurtful.

Why am I writing this? I think Kristi struck a responsive chord with her post. Hers was funny and made me chuckle. She’s a working mother too…and a good one. There are thousands and thousands of Jaynes and Kristis out there who are just doing the best we can to raise our families and make our way through this life and into the next one with our loved ones. There’s no one right way to do this.