I think what Ashley and I disagree on is whether moms have a right to complain.

She says,

“Put yourself in one of your children's shoes. If your mom complained about the mundane things such as combing your hair or fixing your lunch, what kind of message would that send to you? Self-sacrificing our time (and that dazzling social life) for all these necessary things shows our children that we love them.”

What I get from her comment is that moms don’t have a right to whine. We’re not allowed to say we don’t enjoy something relating to child-rearing. We should uncomplainingly sacrifice all our time to serve our families.

I don’t agree. I watched my mother immerse herself in the mundane for 20 years. She never complained. Ever. To anyone. It earned her a breakdown, serious enough to land her in a psychiatric hospital.

What I learned from her experience was to always be in touch with my feelings. I don’t think my mom even complained to herself. Which meant she wasn’t sure about how she felt about continuously serving at all times.

So I complain. I whine. I sulk sometimes.

However, I think you misunderstand, Ashley: I don’t sit around complaining like an 8 year old to my kids about how irritating it is that I have to make them supper. I wait until they’re in bed and then I complain to the internet. Totally different audience, totally different purpose. I complain because I’m a real person, with real feelings, and sometimes I don’t like doing the necessary.

Not that I’d ever neglect the necessary. I just like grumbling sometimes. 

“I thought "your" life was your family when you had one. Being a mother is one of life's biggest blessings but we miss it so often because our culture makes us think that we need all these other things to make us "who we REALLY are", or were meant to be; a job, a social life, etc, etc. These things aren't bad but they make us discontent with our situation that so many would give up all these other things to have. I wish more moms would find satisfaction in the mundane work that's necessary to raise up children. It's the little things in life that seem so insignificant that really count.”

Ashley, I get what you’re saying. Believe me: I appreciate my status as a mom. I tried for more than 3 years to conceive James. I’ve been pregnant 6 times and I have 3 live children. I love, appreciate and cherish them.

However, I don’t cherish the mundane. Not that I dream of being one of those creepy Mrs Americas (because I live in South Africa, but also, just a little because entering pageants when you’re a mom – or at all - is, you know, creepy and twisted). Not because I want to be famous and known as one of those socialite-types. No, not for any of those reasons, but because…. wait for it, because this is profound: I don’t cherish the mundane.

Just in case we’re not clear, here it is again: I don’t enjoy cooking. I don’t enjoy tidying. I hate routine. My favourite reading matter isn’t school notices. My idea of the ideal Friday night outing isn’t a school Bingo evening. The “life” I was whining about in my “Missing” post isn’t a fantastic career, or a dazzling social life. No, what I feel I’m missing out on now that I’m busy with the mundane all the time is a rich intellectual life. The chance now and then to read a good book, to be creative, to write and think about something other than how to palm off raffle tickets and what kind of spread to slap on today’s sandwich.

In case I still haven’t been clear enough: I don’t hate my children. I hate the mundane. I know it’s the little things that count. Like the 10 minutes I spend in bed with them in the morning. Or the time Hannah and I spent last night at a belly-dancing lesson. Or laughing at one of James’s not-very-funny jokes. It’s the little things like that that I cherish. Not the mundane.

I’ve started moving a few things over to Typepad. Go have a look and let me know your opinion. I’ve signed up for a free trial, which expires in about 10 days.

The most important question of course is: would you follow me if I moved? There doesn’t seem to be an easy way of migrating my posts from here to there, so I’m just going to leave an “I’ve moved” message here and a link to old posts there. Do you think that would be adequate? I’d hate to lose my (two) regular readers.

I’ve been meaning to move Jonah out of our bedroom since forever. James moved out when he was about 18 months old and Hannah took a little longer. Neither of them stayed until they were 2. Yet there Jonah is, sleeping in the cot next to our bed, and most nights, waking us up or crawling onto my head in the middle of the night.

We have a tiny house: 3 bedrooms, but the 2^nd and 3^rd could actually be one small bedroom if you knocked down the wall. Hannah and James each have their own room and there really isn’t space for Jonah.

The solution I came up with was to buy double bunks and put the boys in together, until James got too old to share with a younger sibling, or we moved out to a bigger house – whichever came first.

But how to afford double bunks? The prices ranged from the really basic (ie -ugly) at R900 to the designer (ie –unnecessary) at R4500. Whatever: we could afford neither R900 or R4500 or anything in between.

So I wrote an article. And then I got it sold to a magazine. And then I got paid. And then yesterday, I went shopping, bought the bunks, had them delivered and assembled and set up the room.

Resourceful mommy? I think so. 

(Link to magazine to follow when the article is published in August. Whoo-hoo!)