Today Dallin had a performance in his orchestra class. They had divided into small ensembles and prepared music to perform for the parents who could come in and hear them this morning. It started at 8:30, just 10 minutes after I get my elementary kids out the door to the bus stop. So as soon as they left, Bennet and I jumped in the car to get over to the middle school and walked in just a little bit late. I was hoping Bennett's recent infatuation with Little Einsteins and musical instruments would keep him interested and engaged for part of it and that I could keep him quiet with other things for the remainder. After all, the whole thing was less than an hour.
Well, I thought he was doing pretty well. Yeah, he was making some noise, but in a relatively quiet voice, just pointing to all the violins and cellos and other instruments he saw in the shared band/orchestra room. And to be honest, the first part of the concert was kind-of painful to listen to anyway. Bennett was far cuter and more entertaining. At least all the students thought so.
After awhile, he started making up some imaginary Little Einstein's game which involved incessant talking and singing to himself but still fairly quiet to my ears. You could still hear the instruments well above any noise he was making. But I noticed the two dads sitting in front of me kept looking back at Bennett and I with sidelong glances, and then at each other in mutual disapproval of our lack of concert etiquette. (And to add to the poor etiquette, somebody's cell phone rang during one of the songs. And yes, it was mine. In my rush to get there on time, I had forgotten to silence it.)
Finally Dallin's group got up to play. Wouldn't you know they were saved for last. Because they were the best, of course. (That last should be read while oozing motherly pride). I tried to point Dallin out to Bennett in hopes he would sit still and be quiet long enough to hear Dallin perform and then we could sneak out before we annoyed anybody else. But as the group started, Bennett wriggled off my lap, and started singing the theme from the previous song--one he recognized from Little Einstein's. At that point, one of the dads took out his hearing aids with great ceremony. And the other one indiscreetly plugged his ear nearest Bennett and I. So I took him to the back of the room, and couldn't stop the tears from falling down my face. I didn't get to see Dallin perform because I was still trying to keep Bennett quiet, and from drinking from random kids' water bottles AND from running over to explore the drums at the back of the room. But I
heard Dallin's performance between my pathetic sniffling, and Bennett asking, "Why you sad?" Dallin's group did a great job. And hopefully he'll remember that I was there, even though I was in the back wrestling a toddler.
I bolted as soon as they finished and sobbed all the way home. (And I might still be crying as I write this.) So part of me is really bugged by those rude dads. I had a child to support too, and I'm sorry if the Gariety support team is louder than yours, but we're still gonna come. This wasn't a concert that you paid for. It was 45 minutes long. In the orchestra room, with two rows of chairs set up for the parents, and it was at 8:30AM, for crying out loud! You get what you get, folks. And part of me is just a big, fat crying mess that I'll blame partially on embarrassment, pregnancy hormones, exhaustion, etc.
But there's another part of me that is crying because I feel like this experience is a metaphor for something that is a very real struggle for me. How do I effectively mother multiple children ranging from an almost High Schooler to an almost newborn? How do I support my older children in their activities with a noisy 3-year-old in tow who disturbs the other parents? How do I make time to help Daphne with her personal progress and Sean and Hayden with their cub scout requirements, and get them all to consistently do their homework and practice their instruments? How do I get them all to their performances, games, lessons and youth activities and still make dinner or do the laundry? And when I'm trying to juggle all of that, how do I have anything left to give to my husband when he gets home from working all day? How can I be enough for all the people who depend on me? And how in the world do we add another child to this family when I already feel stretched so thin (in every possible sense of the word!)? HOW IS IT DONE??
Well, thank goodness for the scriptures. Yesterday in Sunday School, I taught the Gospel Doctrine lesson which covered the Book of Enos. And there is an experience in that book that I understood differently this time as I was preparing for the lesson and I think I will be relying on it heavily for the next little while. Enos has a remarkable experience with prayer in which he wrestles before the Lord for a remission of his sins. After his struggle, he hears a voice assuring him that his sins are forgiven. He asks the question, "Lord, how is it done?" And the Lord responds, "Because of thy faith in Jesus Christ . . ."
In my studying, I came across a commentary on this scripture passage that really struck me. John Bytheway said that the word "it" in Enos' question "How is it done?" can be replaced by pretty much ANY struggle or challenge we face in life. A habit we need to overcome, endurance through a health challenge, patience in receiving an answer. Forgiveness for ourselves or helping US forgive someone else. Strength to wake up and face another day, or strength to finish the day when you are bone-weary and can barely keep your eyes open, but still have children to put to bed. How are any of these things done? Through faith in Jesus Christ. Choosing to follow personal revelation to bring another child into the world when I feel "not enough" for the children we already have, and somehow managing to BE ENOUGH for all of them. That will be done according to my faith in Jesus Christ.
(And also eating some brownie batter. Which I'm doing as I write this. 'Cause when life gets rough, ya know whatchya gotta do? Just make brownies, just make brownies, just make brownies, brownies, brownies . . .)
But mostly faith in Jesus Christ. I don't entirely trust myself to successfully navigate this whole motherhood business. But I trust that Jesus Christ can magnify my efforts, can inspire my conversations and interactions with my children, can help me be efficient with my time, can help me prioritize correctly. He can make me enough if I rely on Him.
Now the next thing I need to work through is disconnecting my perception of how I'm measuring up as a mother with other people's perception of how I am measuring up. How do I keep from bursting into tears when people look at me disapprovingly and plug their ears when I sit behind them with my children? Maybe I just need more sleep. In fact, yes. I think I will eat one more spoonful of brownie batter, take a nap, and think through that one another day.
