A Merry Heart Required for Motherhood

As I write this on a frigid day in late January, the stock market is in the tank, the new strain of COVID is at an all-time high and the confidence in our government is lower than it was a year ago. OH ME! Yet, while reading my Bible at breakfast I happened on this verse from Proverbs 17:22. “A merry heart doeth good like medicine…” So I plan to share a dose of happy medicine with you today.

As you might guess, I love to laugh. It’s been one of the strongest fibers in the lifeline God used to pull me from a variety of heartbreaking pits—my husband’s untimely death from an incurable disease, the deaths of each member of my immediate family, and other family members going through divorce. If I hadn’t been able to find some laughter after these ordeals, I’d surely be making potholders in a mental institution or bouncing around in a padded cell somewhere.

One great source of laughter comes from daily phone calls from my daughter, Melissa, in Houston. Like her mother, she is now also a teacher, though her “children” are on the college level instead of the high school level as mine were. She has constant stories that amaze me in this new decade of “virtual learning” because of Covid and other stories from cultures of her international students.

Indeed, there is an evolution to becoming a mother that is an everongoing thing. On some days, she is calling to tell me a funny story about her students. On other days, she is telling me something funny that has happened at her home. More recently, however, she and I have changed roles as she attempts to be my mother and I, her child, as she gives me advice.

As I like to say, once you become a mother it’s like getting a life sentence in prison with no hope of parole! And no matter how old we get, we mothers watch our kids—even when they are in their mid-50’s—for signs of improvement. We’re always hoping that something we instilled in them MIGHT show up, even when we’ve started to think it’s too late.

After her father died, Melissa began ‘working’ on me to move back to Houston so she could take care of me in my advanced age. I was 76 at the time! Now, I had I noted in the past how often she cleaned her hamster’s cage and her kitty’s litter box. So now she was planning to take care of ME? Also, I refuse to return to the hectic pace of eight-lane freeways and tension that is now greater than it was when her father and I escaped the frantic pace of that city in 1996. “No way!” I told her. I am just fine here; I feel safe; and I am capable of caring for myself, thank you very much!

Then, after a year had gone by, she began to tell me stories of how much success some people she knew had found in on-line dating sites. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have a pen pal and messages to look forward to each day?” I answered with, “What if my new pen pal turned out to be a Ted Bundy?” This statement quieted her latest tactic.

My sister-in-law happened to call in the midst of my writing this piece and I ‘interviewed’ her for the subject since she is a mother of three. The following is some of the remembrances of new-motherhood she shared which provided the two of us to come up with even more laughter. We collaborated on this subject and I hope the result of our silly conversation provides you with some giggles as well.

According to Bettie, as soon as you learn the first baby is on the way, you rush out to buy maternity clothes--with her, she said, it was the old fashioned loose blouse over elasticized front panel pants. With the second baby, you squeeze into your regular clothes as long as possible. With the third baby, your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes. A new baby can cause overwhelming fatigue, so parents adapt different stress-coping strategies with each child. With the first baby, you worry so much about the baby’s crying that you never put the infant down. When the second baby cries, you pick him up only when his hysterics threaten to wake up the firstborn. With the third baby, you teach the first two where to look for the pacifier and how to rewind the baby swing.

Baby-sitter concerns also change with each new baby. With the first child, you conduct a two hour session with the sitter before leaving and then call home four times while you run to the post office. With the second baby, before you walk out the door, you remember to leave an emergency number –your neighbor’s. With the third baby, you tell the sitter to call only if someone needs stitches, splints, or an ambulance.

While we laugh now at silly evolutions of baby to adult, I do remember that a baby can be fabulous—and lots of fun--even at age 56. A child is a member of the family who can make the love stronger; the days shorter; the nights longer; and the bankroll smaller. Over the years of being a parent, the past is forgotten and the present is lived through while waiting for the future. I understand that grandparenting is even better—I’ve just never had the chance. Now…look at your child/grandchild and show a merry heart!

Regarding my January column on “misspeaking and embarrassing yourself,” I received so many stories back from you that I plan to do a follow-up column in the future.

Brenda Miles is an award-winning columnist and author living in Hot Springs Village. She responds to e-mail comments sent to brenstar@att.net