We've all heard it said that a mother really is a nurse, a doctor, a maid, a cook, a chauffeur, a therapist, a friend, a comforter, a disciplinarian, a playmate, and a teacher just to name a few, and I never understood this fully until I became one. Yet the position entails so much more, we're not just the list above, those who serve and carry out the daily tasks as if robots, no we're more than that, with responsibilities that are indescribable and huge. With motherhood (or parenthood in general) comes the responsibility of love, that calls us outside of ourselves and into a place the enormity of which is terrifying and exhilirating often at the same time.
Today found me on a field trip to the local children's museum with about 70 second graders, four classes to be exact, full of energy, bright, wide eyes and eagerness. Native Americans were the topic of interest and the demonstation/exploration intended to drive home those vocabulary words and concepts we've been going over like Sioux and pueblo, Powhatan and Sioux.
But of course there's much more to do there like dig in the sand, play drums and chimes, get dirty with glue and paint, make sculptures, get wet and weave.
I'm thinking my son got the point though, as he is now outside sitting on a rock by a tree, surrounded by the branches that comprise his "teepee", with two rocks in his hands trying to make fire. (who says we don't homeschool?)
And the ensuing conversation:
Lauren: "WhAAt is a teepee?"
John: "A house that Indians used to live in."
Lauren: "Where in the wORld did you get thAAt from?"