I used to be 22.

It was yesterday.

Which means in a period of 24 hours, I gained a husband, 3 kids, 3 dogs, 10 different home addresses and an undisclosed number of pounds.

What a day.

I wish I could say I’ve got life all figured out now that I have that whole “day” of growing and learning between me and my twenties. But, not so much.  I do, however, know a lot of stuff I didn’t know before.  And with the dawn of another Mother’s Day just about to break, I can’t help but reflect on this first leg of my mom journey. I think if I could create a Mom App, it would just say one thing; flash this one message over and over at me so that I wouldn’t forget.  And that one thing would be, in the words of Rick Warren…

“It’s not about you.”

I home school my daughters and therefore often hear these wonderful little words: “Oh, I could never do that.  I need time to myself.”

Guess what? So do I! I was not born with some innate desire to never be left alone. I am incredibly selfish. If my days went according to my likes and desires, I would spend some of them in my pajamas watching my DVD set of Dick Van Dyke and eating large amounts of Reese’s, some of them shopping for clothes – for myself – and eating large amounts of Reese’s, and some of them lunching with my besties and lying poolside afterward.  With the Reese’s.  And endless amounts of money so I could pay someone to cook, clean and wash my new clothes, and work out with me so I could eat more Reese’s. And occassionally I’d solve some major international crime for the CIA and then go sing back-up for Christy Nockels.

But God.  God saw things differently for me.  His vision was more like this:

“I know the plans I have for you.  Plans to grow a human inside of you while you swell, sweat and remain constantly nauseated.  And when that’s over, it’ll get really hard. And although you might really like some time for yourself, we’re going to go a slightly less conventional route. Oh, and your perky boobs and 22″ waist? Buh bye.” And then He probably threw in the not to harm you part, but after all that other stuff, I wasn’t listening.

Nope, I didn’t make the choice to educate my girls at home because I never want time to myself.  I did it for the same reason I do everything else I do as a parent; because I have the deep-down-in-my-gut conviction that it’s what’s best for them.  And what’s best for them is usually least convenient for me. Don’t misunderstand me.  I love parenting. And I truly love home schooling.  It’s amazing how an all knowing-God will call you to do something that actually fits your personality and your likes and your skill set. But it doesn’t mean He called me to supernaturally love never having time alone. And it’s sure not something I would’ve thought up on my own.  Remember I was with the CIA and on tour before all this started.

And as crazy as either of those sound, they’re not nearly as crazy as how I thought this whole mom thing would go. I look back at the images I had conjured up before my children came along and I have to laugh.  Oh, the naivety! Tell me you’re with me, girls! I mean is that biological clock a big fat false advertiser or what?!  We get that internal longing, that natural desire to just want one of those babies. I wanted one with everything in me. How wonderful it will be, we think, and won’t our husband be so sexy sitting in that glider in the nursery in the middle of the night, rocking her back to sleep.  Then we fast forward to teaching her how to ride a bike, drive a car, and the day she comes home with a ring.  It’s all so beautiful.  And quiet.  And perfect.

But God. This was probably the part where He laughed.

Because then you get one.  And you can’t remember your name, much less what that glow around your husband’s face in the middle of the night was supposed to look like. They are demanding from the second they arrive.  And it never really changes, does it? They just need you in different ways. Because once they finally start feeding themselves and picking up their own toys…boom. They’re a teenager. And they may know not to cross the street without looking, but now you have to tell them to watch out for somebody else’s kid who’s about to cross the street because now they’re the ones driving the cars.   It’s hard.  It’s constant.  And it’s just flat not about you.  This job, the hardest and most rewarding job on the planet, is not about you.  These gifts are not yours.  Oh yes, you’ll enjoy them immensely.  They will bring joy and laughter and heart swells you never could have imagined back at the start of the biological clock.  But everything you’re putting into this 24/7 task, from the moment they enter your heart until the moment God takes them back, is actually about making them independent. Making them ready to leave you. Enabling them to survive the world with you somewhere in the background, no longer so ever-present like you were in those early days. It’s about equipping them to someday go out into the future and have their own day dreams and biological clocks and 2:00 am reality checks.

It’s hard.  And terrifying.  And beautiful.  And exhausting.  And gratifying.  And exhausting. And I wouldn’t change a thing.  Not for all the lazy days and Reese’s and tour dates in the world.  Thank You God for this plan to make me a mom, and a home school one at that.  It sounded so ridiculous at the start, so in conflict with what I thought I wanted. But that’s pretty much always where You and I begin. And I always love looking back and seeing how much better Your idea was than mine.