The Things We Don't Say

I just spent a fab morning making crepes with Kata and Rachel. Sweetie spoils us with them sometimes, but this time I learned how to make true Hungarian ones, with a real Hungarian chef.

This started out as a group Visiting Teaching meeting. We invited the girls we teach over to Kata's and she was going to instruct us in the art of crepe-making. As it turned out, only Rachel could come, which is honestly how I would prefer it anyway. The three of us have a great time talking and things get pretty candid, which is how I like it.

If the only perception a girl/young woman had of motherhood was from Relief Society on Sundays, they would only scratch the tip of the iceberg. What about when someone is horrified that they got pregnant--again? How about the children of neighbors that you can't abide and want to torment in subtle ways? What if we give birth to an ugly baby? How many kids can I stop at without feeling guilty?

Church leaders try to sanctify mothers and endow them with the noblest of hearts and intentions. The pressure! We're only human, and have as many frailties, doubts, and anger management issues as anyone else. We love our own children, but no way are we changing the neighbor kid's diaper. And do we really need to be eternal Primary teachers? Do you not trust us with the general population of young marrieds and empty-nesters? How about giving us time off for good behavior, at least? Though I must confess, you will have to pry my Primary piano accompanist job from my cold, dead hands.

And then we admit that being a mom isn't nearly as bad as we thought it would be. We kind of dig being pregnant, at least most of us do. Being a chick isn't that bad, we guess. That having a baby fall asleep in your arms is one of the most amazing experiences one can have. We could even learn to love an ugly baby in time, or at least try to.

These talks are good for the soul, even if they involve things we'd never discuss in polite society. There are some women who seem to handle motherhood with such natural ability and grace that the rest of us feel inadequate. There are others who make us feel pretty darned proud of ourselves after encounters with their horrible offspring. We're all just doing our best, most days, and hoping the kids are so distracted by their crazy mothers that they don't remember the other ones.