malkatsheva

Today, a dear friend of mine sent me this story in my email.



Invisible Moms

I'm invisible..... It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Pick me up right around 5:30, please?"

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe.

I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

1. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.

2. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.

3. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

4. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man,
"Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof ? No one will ever see it. " And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand- bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women and men.

***************************************


After reading this little tale, I felt completely furious and hit “reply” to let my friend have it. Then I realized that I would do better to share my irritation with the whole world, since the stupid attitudes embodied in this saccharine little piece are very wide-spread and my friend didn’t come up with it on her own. She’s guilty only of taking in some crap somebody fed her – but the crap is coming from alllllllll around.

Caveat: behind the cut, you’ll find some of the most vitriolic, lengthy ranting you’ll ever get from me. This topic burns me up like no other in creation. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.


Crap, you say? But that story was delightful, so charming. Yeah, it kinda was, until one looked a little closer. Let’s do some analysis.

1. Why does this woman seem to think that it’s okay for her to be a servant and chauffeur for her children? Is she a single mom or something? Dad can’t drive them around? Never heard of carpooling? Is there some reason she can’t just say, “Pardon me, I am on the phone, please go away?” She must be really passive-aggressive. Why can’t she speak up for herself? Doesn’t she feel that she has to right to tell her children what to do? My parents sure were comfortable with that concept, and I’m at home with it too. I tell my kids to get lost, and I don’t feel one little bit guilty. This woman is a real doormat, not a real role model.

2. What happened to her studies of history? My mom got a B.A. in computer science on top of her old B.A. in mathematics, my dad finished his Ph.D and then went back for another Master’s. Neither one of them showed any sign of disappearing into the peanut butter, and what’s more, they were visibly annoyed with me when I stayed home with my kids for a few years. What’s this lady’s deal? Did somebody cruelly rip away her history books? No, she put them down all on her own and now she’s feeling sorry for herself.

3. So, she quit taking care of herself and went out to dinner in a disgusting old rag that reeked of stale food? Who made her do that? My mother-in-law raised 3 kids and never did that in her entire life, my mom raised 2 and can say the same. I myself have definitely gone out looking and smelling like crap, but I didn’t beat myself up about it or get down. I got my act together and I don’t do that anymore. Once again, this is passive-aggressive bullshit. Did the gypsies come by and steal all your nice clothes? Or did you just fail to take care of yourself? Don’t be a twit! Take a shower and put on clean clothes, it won’t kill you!

4. But all this ranting heretofore is just the warm-up for the really infuriating stuff. Now this person wants to say that raising children is like building a cathedral? Really? It’s sacred, and you’re like a holy priestess? Bitch, please! You are not a special snowflake. Even dogs and hamsters raise children. Quit acting like it’s such a big deal. It’s just a mammal thing. This is just a big propaganda gambit that people always want to trot out to justify the idea the women should want nothing more than to be mothers. Motherhood is a special offering to God! It’s so special, so holy, so wonderful, so fulfilling that you should be cumming your brains out just thinking about motherhood, by golly. Why, a woman who doesn’t want to be a mother is not even really a woman, she can never be truly fulfilled if her womb is unfilled! Yeahhhhhhhhh. Ever notice how nobody ever says things like that about men? Men never say, “Fatherhood is the greatest job I’ve ever had.” No, they say shit like that about climbing Mt. Everest or whatever. But for men, parenthood is never expected to be the be-all and end-all. Why is that? Why am I expected to be some kind of Holy Bride of Diapers, while my husband simply is not? What, God isn't watching men? Or maybe God doesn't give a darn if men reproduce? Or maybe. . . this thought-form is so stupid that only the window-dressing of Divinity is preventing everyone from realizing just how utterly worthless it is. Yeah, that's my vote.

5. “At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.” What?!! Your invisibility IS an affliction! One you put on yourself, I might add! The disease erasing your life is your own crazy wrong-headedness! It is not self-centered to want to wear clean clothes and smell nice and have an enjoyable career! It is not pride to want to be your own person for part of every day! Snap out of it, crazy lady!

6. And last but not least: you don’t want your son to admire your hard work? You don’t want to be praised and receive due credit for your hard work? What kind of a dunce are you?! Oh, and why exactly did you get up at 4 am to bake? Because my mother, my mother-in-law, my sister and I, well, we like to bake the pies a day or two in advance, during normal daylight hours. Try it. You’ll like it. Yeah, and after we bake those pies and baste that turkey, we don’t try to pretend the Thanksgiving Fairy did all the work. No, we bask in the praise and adoration of those who receive our bounty – and you should too, crazy lady. If your family isn’t adoring your work, then let them do the damn baking and basting. It ain’t rocket science anyway.

And so, in conclusion, unknown crazy lady, please PUT DOWN YOUR MARY MARTYR CROWN and back away from the steaming pile of bullshit on your plate. Right now. And please, for everyone’s sake, quite trying to infect the rest of us with your self-defeating ideology. “Children, Church, Kitchen.” Who said that was the right path for women? Oh, yeah. . . Adolph Hitler, that’s who. Can we all please just leave this awful, sexist crap behind us? Please?


Whew! I'm worn out with all that ranting.