Sailor Scott recently wrote about a theory of hers that caught my attention (it should catch your attention too…great post). I copy/pasted the first paragraph because paraphrasing would not do her words justice:

“A kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. That’s what they say, right? Well I have discovered that, in a certain regard, women seem to be created as only one or the other side of the kingdom. We are built to be either doting and adoring Wives or nurturing and attendant Mothers. I don’t believe that anyone is naturally good at both”

I’ll have to admit I was a bit taken aback by that last statement at first.  There are and have been so many women in my life that have it all together. They’re loving wives in fantastic, solid relationships. They have mastered the balance between teaching and spoiling their children. They always have a home cooked meal, a plate of fresh cookies and an organized craft bin. At least this is how it seems to me, with my nose pressed up to a spotless window trying to figure out their secrets. I envy how effortlessly they orchestrate their chaotic lives with bright, sincere smiles and perfectly manicured nails. Where do they find the energy and flexibility to entertain & educate the munchkins, maintain a loving relationship with their husbands, and be a strong, reliable friend?

Then I re-read that statement. She’s not saying that it’s not possible. She’s saying she doesn’t think it comes NATURALLY.  Ah. That makes more sense. Onward.

There’s no doubt which side I fall on. She goes on to expound upon her initial descriptions but I knew immediately. I’m betting most of you do too (if you agree with the theory that is) but still…go read the post. It’s a good one. Did I say that already?

I am most definitely, wholly and completely a Wife. This whole mothering gig…I kinda suck at it. Okay okay. To be honest I REALLY suck at it. We have good kids. Our kids do what they’re asked (most of the time), enjoy hanging out with us and get along with each other (again – most of the time). They laugh and play and look out for each other. They’re (usually) polite.  And they drain me. Their ongoing chatter is happy and open…good qualities. Yet way too often the constant noise is equivalent to a million tiny bugs crawling through my ears and around my skull. They like to be involved with us, close to us. I had to set boundaries in the kitchen just so I could cook without constantly tripping over or bumping into a pre-teen boy. And so they toe those boundaries, getting  just as close as they can without inadvertently ruining dinner (or worse – dessert!). When I sit down one magically appears over my shoulder, anxious to regale me with a story or ten from his day. Yes I know. Soon they’ll be gone. My mother commented once “You have the scissors poised over the apron strings don’t you?” I laughed at the time because it was such an accurate statement. I’m not necessarily trying to rush them out the door but I have enjoyed each “older” stage more than the previous. We have great kids. I KNOW how lucky we are that they want to share and be involved. I KNOW how fortunate we are. Trust me. I know.  I repress sighs of irritation and listen to their stories when I want to zone out with a blank word doc and my keyboard. I enforce family dinners and encourage family movie night. I try to be patient and loving and encouraging and…motherly. But this is not a role that comes naturally to me.

On the other hand, this whole wife role is (surprisingly) easy. Monday & Tuesday I am actually happy to clean house and cook because it makes Jon’s life more pleasant. I enjoy folding and putting away laundry because his mornings will be smoother. (I know – even I think it’s borderline obscene). The sound of his car door slamming makes my heart skip a beat and it’s all I can do not to bowl him over as soon as he walks in the door. Wednesday – Friday at 4:20 giddiness starts to set in because I GET to come home to him. I relish the time we snuggle on the couch and watch tv. Our date nights put me on a high. If I’m a little off (more so than normal), his arms around me puts everything right…or at least gives me a boost to face [insert stressor] with a good attitude.  Actually hugs are welcome – desired-  no matter the situation. I enjoy being silly together, laughing until I can’t breathe, watching the mischievous expressions on his face. I crave time with him, I crave that closeness that we share. I enjoy hanging out with friends and group activities but I need that one on one time too. I love that we have a bond with each other that no one else shares but it can’t be maintained and strengthened without time together. Our “us” time steadies me, revitalizes me and yes, even reassures me.

Do I love our boys? Absolutely. Would I chose free childcare and a weekend trip to McCall for the two of us over a week long, all expenses family vacation to somewhere warm & tropical? Absolutely.

I don’t think this makes me a bad mother. It’s not a natural role for me by any stretch of the imagination but I am painfully aware of that fact. I constantly remind myself to focus on the positives – the smiles, the laughter. When the five year old came bounding out of his room this morning all smiles and giggles and messy blonde hair and announced “I LOVE you”, I dropped what I was doing, scooped him up and returned the sentiment. When the eleven year old announced yesterday that his day “hadn’t been so great”,  I pulled him aside and had some one on one time to check in. When the ten year old came in the kitchen today and said “I really just want to watch you bake”, I relaxed the boundaries a bit and engaged him in what I was doing. I’ve already started making plans for things to do with the boys this spring & summer. I’m trying. I really am. But I can relate to Sailor’s post. I can relate to the feeling of being torn, of quietly failing as both a wife and a mother. The concern that I’ve snapped at a child unnecessarily. The focus on creating a safe, loving home for them and then watching as I drop the ball on a simple need for my spouse – a warm house after he’s been in a cold server room all day or being neurotic when he just wants support. The fear that in all this I will lose myself completely and the opposite but equal fear that I’m too selfish/neurotic/insecure to be successful at EITHER role. I don’t know how other women make it look so effortless. It’s certainly not.  At least not for me.