Daily Dose 61: 5 O’Clock Quitting Time

Mom was a simple, straight forward stay-at-home mom, at the time when every mother stayed home. Our one car went to work with our dad. The milk man, the bread man, and the insurance man all routinely came to our home, the side door. The first two left FOOD, which greatly interested us as children; the third came to collect money, which held no interest for us whatsoever.

Our first teenage babysitter came one night when I was probably in fourth or fifth grade. Other than that, Grandma Wilson appeared for a week or so whenever a new baby was born, or mom was home with us. My dad even did the grocery shopping every other Friday night (on payday, it turns out) after coming home for dinner and picking up one of the children for their turn on the shopping adventure. 

I, perhaps, was not very alert during my childhood. It all seemed to pass in a comfortable, secure haze of satisfaction. I do not have an endless array of stories about things my mother tried to teach us about how to live, what was right, what was wrong. That ended up happening, of course, but not as pointed lessons I consciously remember.

In fact, only two mom lessons come to mind; whether any of the siblings heard or learned these same lessons, I have no idea. The stories, however, have provided me with striking guidance, simply because they did rise from the sea of her constant presence to stand out as one thing she said and one thing she did.

Contentment in the Current Stage

First, she remarked about people who complained about every life stage their children were in: they wanted them out of diapers when they were in diapers, and in diapers when they were being potty trained. They wanted them out from underfoot when toddlers, and home for every vacation and holiday once they were married with families of their own. Mom said parents should enjoy every life stage, finding and grasping the “special and good” of that time; remembering closed stages fondly once they passed, but not yearning to be back in an earlier stage, because they should be enraptured with a new stage.

Limits on the Endless

The second subtle lesson came from her way of handling housework. Of course, housework is never going to be done. Everyone either jokes about it or complains about it. How can housework be “done” when real people live real lives through their home? Only if no one was there, would the floors stay clean, the kitchen would be closed from cooking and the tub would never have a ring (Do bathtubs even have “rings” anymore? You don’t hear much about that blight on domestic excellence in this modern era…).

For mom, being the house boss (executive would be my word) meant you set the work hours. You could leave the basket of towels till tomorrow to fold; you did not need to stay up until one in the morning to fold them. You could leave toys on the floor and still read a story. The point was not laziness, it was limits. Admittedly, her limits came mostly from the hard work of mothering seven children. Our limits are to come from the Lord.

So, she “quit” work nightly, just like my dad. Then she was home, not as cook, maid, laundress, housekeeper, or even teacher, but as the mom who lived in the home we shared. And you know, that’s what I remember.