The Attic

I’ve always sorta been the bossy older sister. When we were little, I’d make my brothers play “house,” and if they didn’t do what I wanted or if they said something I didn’t like I’d make them start the “scene” over. And they did it. I used to choreograph dances for the three of us as well. Once I taught them one I had made up to the Mission Impossible theme song. We practiced and practiced and had a performance for our parents. I’m sure it was amazing to behold.

Now that my brothers are grown up manly men, I’m sure they wouldn’t like to admit that they played dolls or house or dance with me. I wielded a power over them of sorts because I was their older sister and because I was so bossy.

But there is more to being an older sister than being bossy. I was always protective of my brothers, and made it quite clear when I did not approve of a girlfriend. I cheered for them in countless sports events. And I have always been proud of them.

Even though we are all grown now, I am still proud of my brothers. For years now, my youngest brother has said that he wants to be a life flight pilot some day. A very worthy goal in my opinion! He started training to be a helicopter pilot as soon as he could. He started accumulating flight hours. But obviously, you need a lot of flight hours to be a life flight pilot, so the goal seemed far off.

Just recently, however, Greg was offered his dream job, and accepted. He’ll be an EMS pilot in Ohio starting next month. At only 24 he’s already reached his goal through hard work and skill. I’m so proud of him not just because he got a good job, but because he took something a long way off and made it into a reality for himself. (Uncle Greg will be missed, though! Now we’ll see him even less often.)

My middle brother also gives me reason to be proud. It took him awhile to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. But after finally settling on nursing, he is rapidly approaching the end of nursing school with excellent reviews from his advisers. He is thinking of becoming an ICU nurse. His interest in nursing is obvious every time we see him, and it almost becomes contagious.

I know jobs aren’t everything, and they aren’t the most important things in a person’s life. But both my brothers give me reasons to be proud, and so I’m bragging a bit I guess. It’s my right. I’m the bossy older sister.

Earlier this week I went to my first teacher meeting for my summer school teaching position. As I closed the front door on my boys and their aunt and uncle and walked out to the car, I have to admit I was a little teary. Not because I was worried about the babysitting abilities of my brother and his wife. My boys had a great time! I was just emotional about the prospect of going back to work…even if it’s only for five weeks out of the year.

I had to keep repeating to myself on my drive to the meeting, “I want to do this. I want to do this.”

The drive home was a lot different, though. The meeting got me so excited about the summer. It made me remember how much I enjoy teaching and how much I miss it. It made me remember who I am outside of being two precious boys’ mamma.

I felt like I came up for a big gasp of air when I hadn’t even known I was under water. I felt content and free.

Don’t get me wrong. I think that caring for my two boys is one of the most fulfilling things I will ever do with my life. I’m so blessed to be able to stay home with them. But I’ve just had a need recently to see myself through something other than the spit-up and finger-paint stained Mommy lens.

The five weeks I work this summer will be hard, but they’ll be worth it. And then I’ll come home and  give my boys as many kisses as I can before they squirm away.

My car passes into the shade of the city and I immediately feel closed in, like a door has been shut behind me. I just can’t breathe in the city. Yes, I am stressed driving my two children around down town because I don’t know exactly where I am going. But I suspect that my anxiety has more behind it than just that. Even in Portland with the park blocks and evidence of the beautiful northwest everywhere, there is so much concrete. So much brick. So much glass and metal.

We cross the street on foot. Boys riding in the double stroller, our picnic in hand. The river just a few feet away is glistening. The Hawthorne bridge sits proudly with its green and red standing out against a brilliant blue sky. We find a bench, and I feed the infant while the toddler sits next to his Daddy, peanut butter sandwich in hand (and on his face), sunglasses on, looking out at the view. He takes it all in. I breathe in the fresh air. Even with the city just a few feet behind me, I feel I can breathe deeper. The air entering my lungs is cleaner, cooler, more fulfilling. We have our thirty minutes of paradise together as a family.

What is it about concrete that makes me feel closed in? Maybe it’s because it’s all man made. It reeks of money and greed and the hectic pace of life we were probably not meant to live. It reeks of priorities all gone wrong. The open air is God’s creation. It nourishes me, body and soul.

From September 2007 to June 2008 I spent much of each day with 24 third graders. I planned their school day, helped them solve friendship problems, taught them about multiplication and Native Americans and what makes a complete sentence. I was their teacher and I loved it. Unfortunately, my first teaching position was also a temporary one. The school did not need my position the next year, and I was sent packing.

It was devastating. And even more so when I didn’t get another position the next fall, and had to turn to substitute teaching instead that next year. After I had a few months to look back on it, I realized that I was probably so devastated because I had my whole identity wrapped up in being a teacher. So when I lost that, there was nothing of me left. There was no purpose. I loved teaching, but I was more than a teacher. I decided to work on identifying myself as more than just a teacher, and vowed never to let myself get that wrapped up in just one aspect of my life again.

……..

September 30th, 2010 was definitely one of the best days of my life. It was the day I became a mother. Just recently, I have become a mother of two. Mothering is the most tiring, frustrating, yet wonderful experience. I love being a mother. But I’m not just a mother.

I think especially since my second son was born, I’ve been in danger of identifying just as a mother. Babies are so all-consuming, and add a toddler into the mix…well….there just isn’t much time for anything else. Slowly the other things that are important to me have been slipping away. I don’t have time for sewing. I quit bell choir and Stephen Ministry for the time being. I hardly thought about my commitment as a Child Ambassador for World Vision until my husband mentioned it the other day. I found myself wondering if I should really teach summer school again since there are two kids now. I even questioned if my husband and I should really go use those Symphony tickets we had planned to use for our anniversary date. Being a mother was taking over everything else.

I love being a mother. But I’m not just a mother. Maybe if I keep writing it, it will sink in faster. I love my kids, but I’m my own person too. I’m a mother-wife-Christian-Teacher-and so much more-woman. I’ve started to take myself back by getting my body physically in order. I started Weight Watchers. I started running for exercise. Those have been a good start. I ordered picture folders so I can try to get more children sponsored. I decided that teaching summer school is important to me.

I love being a mother. But I’m not just a mother.