As some of you know, I work full time as a nanny. Not a babysitter; a full blown, drool-covered, booty-wiping nanny. I freaking love it. Maybe it’s the opportunity to be a part of another family, or the ability to pour into a child’s life. Really, I think it’s because the conversations with a two-year-old are 110 times funnier than with any adult. I mean, who else are you going to take seriously in an argument about cookies while they’re standing butt-naked with hands in the appropriately authoritative on-the-hips position? I rest my case.
I’ve been babysitting for people here and there for several years now, but May of 2016 was when I took my first position as a nanny. I knew it was the only job I wanted to do between graduating and leaving for the WR, and I had looked into several nanny positions before I was given this awesome opportunity. I live with my nanny family, so I don’t have to pay rent or buy my own groceries, which is an absolute blessing. I get my own bedroom and I get to have a family away from my family. I knew what it took to keep a kid alive (plenty of water, enough sunlight) and I knew I would be able to love them. I am a beast a changing diapers-even the explosive ones- and my jokes are definitely meant for the age group of under-ten-year-olds. I thought through all of this when I was deciding that this was the job I wanted to do. Here’s what I didn’t think about: what does it take to be a mom?
Don’t freak out, this is neither a pregnancy nor an adoption announcement. It is, however, my proclamation to the world that the longer I do this, the more I realize I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING. Seriously. Obviously the kids are in good hands (or I wouldn’t still be working here), and I know, humbly, that I’m good at what I do. When I say I don’t know what I’m doing, what I mean is, I don’t know how I do most of the things I do. It’s like when you accidentally do something amazingly cool, realize you did that thing, then realize there is no way you could do that, then stand totally baffled at your own superhuman capabilities. That is probably 83% of my time nannying. Allow me to explain further.
I’m double nannying for the month of May (two kiddos instead of one), and I did it for a couple of days in April. My first child, whose family I live with, is just over 2 years of age, and the new child is, I believe, 5 months. So, two kids who still rely completely on older humans. Wednesday was like any other Wednesday, with a visit to the coffee shop, except with an extra passenger. We’re getting ready to leave and I’m buckling kid #2 into his car seat, throwing some sunnies on kid #1, putting my shoes on, putting shoes on kid #1, throwing a diaper bag the size of your grandmother’s purse over my shoulder, grabbing the car seat, grabbing my car key, holding kid #1’s hand, and walking out the door, all while keeping in beat with “Eye of the Tiger.” Missed montage opportunity, if you ask me. It gets better. As we’re leaving the coffee shop, I’ve got all this, plus two drinks. You know when you’re doing something so smoothly, but you know if you start thinking about it, you’ll mess it up? That is this in large scale. So we leave the coffee shop, I’m holding the door with one foot, and I get both tots all buckled up in the car, and that’s when I realize: what have I done? There is no way what I just did was humanly possible. I only have two hands, and from what I’m counting on them, I was doing more than two things. Que second, even bigger realization: If this is only a taste of what being a mom is like, I can’t do it. That’s the catch, though, who could really, actually, do every bit of motherhood on her own? And yes, I know there are awesome single moms out there, I was raised by one, but still, there is no mother that doesn’t at some point lose her cool and lock herself in the closet. So how does she do it?
JESUS. There is literally no other answer I can think of. The past few years of my life are a testimony to this fact. I paid my way through two years, $14,000 worth of a leadership school, and worked on days I wasn’t at school. Some money came from donations, the rest from what I made working different jobs. Jesus provided. In my current season I don’t always feel like I’m doing much. It’s been what I’ve called my season of rest after my two years of no days off. When I think about it, though, I’m balancing nannying at least one child four days a week, babysitting here and there, online class, leading a small group, traveling about once a month, a relationship, being intentional in spending specific times a week with friends, going to the gym at least four times a week, and having time for myself. I know some of that isn’t necessarily, well, necessary for my life, but it’s stuff that I enjoy, and it fills my time nonetheless. My point is, if I were to have looked at a list of all these things with extensive explanations on how much of my attention and time they would occupy, I wouldn’t have signed on. Why? Because there aren’t enough hours in a day that I could reasonably, with my own brain power, fit all of this in, and especially on a regular basis. With that being said, I have to ask myself, how many times would I have skipped signing on with Jesus because what I do on my journey with him is too much for me? The answer is: every single time. If moms had known how much work really went into motherhood before they entered in, would they have still done it? The answer is probably yes, not because the workload is easy, or even manageable, but because of the love that’s come out of it. And that’s the beauty of it. What I do and what happens as a result of choosing this path in my life isn’t my doing or because of my will power. It’s because I have a savior who loves me beyond any measure I could come up with or comprehend, and he would do anything for me. And while no mother, Christian or not, could do the journey without Jesus seeing her through it, and just as no child is meant to enter life without a mother, I can’t do what I do without Jesus. And I expect the rest of my life will be this way, I hope it will be this way. I don’t have to be burdened with everything because I have another shoulder on which to place the load. It’s Christ’s characteristics like this that I see in mothers the most. And maybe that’s because I have a single mother, or because I’m a female who wants to be a mother one day. Whatever the case, though, I’m thankful I had these small examples of Christ even before I pursued him.
So to all the mommas out there, and to mine especially, I love you and I thank you for all the times you knew you couldn’t do it, but pressed on anyways. I can only hope that my love for and commitment to Jesus is as deep as your love and dedication to your child.
