Self-Limitation: Tale of a Not-So-Desperate Housewife

Last weekend, the McKinney's celebrated Cami-Jo's 1st birthday, along with a small group of cherished friends and family.  (Cami's birth story is here.)
----

By now, we've basically settled back into our everyday routine (i.e.  Eat, clean the highchair. Repeat.)  But, for a couple weeks, I became consumed with party details--and I had a blast! Sending invites, buying decorations, scrap-booking, and hunting for the perfect outfit to make Baby Girl look like a cupcake...  

I enjoyed the break from the norm immensely. And I would declare the entire event a raging success, if only I could silence the annoying question popping into my mind: "Do I come across as a Desperate Housewife?"

Be honest. When you see a mom who dresses her baby in lace, head-to-toe; a mom who takes a gazillion pictures and brags about all the things her kid can say (or sign); a mom who writes thank you notes within three days of the party, all composed in the baby's "voice;" you've got to think, "that lady has waaaaay too much time on her hands."

Moms like me tend to relish in little details, and sometimes we criticize ourselves (and each other) for going "too far." We've all felt pressure to brag about milestones or work toward "perfection," so we can validate all the work we do.

In honor of women who become overzealous about breastfeeding, Tina Fey coined the term "Teat Nazis." She explains this phenomenon occurs "when highly ambitious women experience deprivation from outside modes of achievement," and direct their ambitions toward their children instead. This seems to imply that a lack of "real-world" stimulation causes some moms to pursue not-so-important things with embarrassing enthusiasm.

Thus, I feel a tad self-conscious. I want to argue that Desperate Housewives (and Teat Nazis) do not exist. Except, I do experience deprivation from outside modes of achievement, and sometimes it shows!


Probably most stay-at-home mothers understand what I mean. Do your daily tasks truly showcase your full range of abilities? At the end of the day, do you feel exceedingly smart, accomplished, and intellectually stimulated?

I, for one, am capable of greater things than a flawless diaper change or pitch-perfect "Twinkle, Twinkle." There was a time my husband asked about my day and I had news more interesting than: "the laundry basket contained an even number of socks!"

This isn't bad. Except, when many of us feel that twinge of humiliation, when TV shows and former SNL cast members ridicule us for allowing our high-achievement personalities to cross paths with Mommyhood...

The world seems to say:
You're trying too hard! Well-dressed children and homemade meals are a sign of desperation! Deep down, you wish you could get away--hold down a real job. Wouldn't you be more satisfied outside the home--where accomplishments truly matter? You're selling yourself short, stifling yourself!

Due to this (real or imagined) message, there are times I won't update my Facebook status because I have nothing to say apart from Cami, and I don't want to sound pathetic. Isn't it sad when an educated woman thinks of nothing but her child all day? Doesn't the fact that she misses those "outside accomplishments" prove she's limiting herself?

Well, yes, in a way.

But remember this, fellow Domestic Engineers. Limiting oneself, for the sake of another, is the highest calling of all. Jesus said: "There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life..."  This doesn't just apply to literal, physical death. It's the essence of self-sacrifice in all forms.
 

I've already written about how Teri Hatcher doesn't understand sacrificial love. Perhaps Tina Fey doesn't, either. So, let me explain it again. I don't enjoy mopping, cooing, strolling, and Sesame-Streeting the same way I enjoyed going to school and working outside the home. But I've limited myself to these baby-things, for now, the way Christ limited Himself for me.

I laid down my former life, intentionally, as an act of love.

As a result, it's almost laughable that a major source of my excitement comes from a toddler's birthday. And, along with a few other "Desperate Housewives," I feel the urge to join clubs and bake cookies, and decorate my house...to spice things up when my job, inevitably, gets a tad boring.  Sometimes--while looking at pictures of bentos and squealing "I'd like to try that!"--it strikes me that I once aspired to more than playing with my kid's food...

But I don't want to spend another minute hiding that enthusiasm, out of fear of stereotypes or embarrassment...

Hollywood simply doesn't understand God's paradoxical system. Humility is exulted, sacrifice is rewarded, and self-limitation doesn't make me "desperate" at all...