Chasing Superwoman (9 page)

I closed my door and wept. With my luck, one of my colleagues would knock on my door any minute and find Lady Lawyer in a puddle of tears. I just wanted to be alone and escape from my office, at least until I could pull myself together. This was just too complicated to explain to Harvard Bill or even Jock Jill and I longed to be in the privacy of my own home. I thought I was over the rejection I had felt from the church so many years ago, but the truth is, I wasn't. I had been carrying it with me too long, and I had to let it go.

I've come to realize that the church is full of imperfect people, just like me, who are trying to give their best to God and haven't quite figured out what that looks like day by day. I've also come to realize that pulling away from the church isn't the answer. Working mothers need to be part of the heart and soul of the church, and the church needs to be part of the heart and soul of working mothers. The fact is, we need each other, and God created us to live in fellowship, not isolation. Yes, it's going to take some patience and creativity—like late-night Bible studies and early morning email prayer chains—but no working mother should feel that she's not welcome inside the church. It's going to take more people like Nonjudging Jane—people who don't draw lines in the sand, but instead stand beside us as we try to be excellent workers and devoted mothers. And it's going to take more of us who are working mothers—mothers who have celebrated successes but have learned from failures—to share our experiences with other women and encourage each other as we grow and learn together.

Working mothers have much to learn from the church. And yes, the church still has much to learn from working mothers.

EIGHT

Adventures in Shopping

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:19–21

Most of us have too much stuff. As a result, our kids have too much stuff. Sure, we try to be thankful for what we have and not hold our possessions too tightly, but it's still tough to keep things in perspective, especially for those of us who like to shop. Material possessions are not bad in and of themselves, but as Matthew 6:21 points out, hearts tend to follow treasures. As much as the kids and I enjoy shopping together—and have created some memorable and entertaining experiences in the process—I try to teach them that life is about much more than accumulating more things, and we need to be content with what we have and help those who are in need. This doesn't stop us from venturing out on our weekend shopping excursions. Starting with the grocery store.

Adventures in the Soup Aisle

I used to enjoy the grocery store. I would cut out coupons in advance, have a neatly organized list, shop the specials, and leisurely drink my double-tall, nonfat latte while strolling through the aisles, planning my next gourmet dinner. At a comfortable pace, I would get my shopping done in less than forty-five minutes. Sometimes, one of those annoying mothers with screaming children would be in the aisle next to me.

Can't you control your children?
I would think to myself,
Better yet, if you can't control them, just leave them at home.

I have become the annoying mother in the grocery store. I get those disapproving stares on a regular basis, and it's not pretty. I know the shoppers around me must wonder,
Why on earth is this woman dragging three small kids to the grocery store on a Saturday morning?
It's a fair question. Unfortunately, I don't have the leisure of sitting at home and drinking coffee on Saturday mornings while my kids watch cartoons. Don't think I wouldn't like to. Weekend Mommy doesn't have a spare moment before she has to run off to baseball practice, birthday parties, and gymnastics, so she has to get her shopping done early. And of course the kids want to come with me. They haven't seen me all week.

I tried to delegate grocery shopping once. It lasted about two months. Nanny Jill would come home with avocados that weren't ripe or meat that wasn't lean. Then I gave Doug a shot. He would get everything I
didn't
put on the list—chips, beer, ice cream, frozen pizza, nacho dip, and bacon. The perfect diet for a healthy family of five. Unfortunately, if you want some things done right, you just have to do them yourself. Especially when it comes to food. Now I really don't care if you put my sheets on backward or fold my towels in opposite corners. And I couldn't care less if my piano isn't perfectly dusted and I can even live with a little clutter. But don't mess with my refrigerator.

The four of us head to the grocery store on Saturday mornings like clockwork. I always tell Nick and Anna not to hang on the cart because it makes it terribly heavy to push with the weight of three children, but they never listen. If I'm lucky, all the child-friendly carts shaped like cars will be taken by other customers, and I can snatch a normal cart that doesn't have a steering wheel and swinging doors and the turning radius of a semi. My goal is to strap Abby into the child seat, at least for the first ten minutes, until she inevitably escapes and then we play the chasing game all over the store. She throws stuff in the cart faster than I can put it back on the shelf, and it's always the stuff that's not on my list. Nick and Anna usually can't stop laughing, which only encourages her to put more food in the cart. Her favorite? The soup aisle. We have more cans of Dora the Explorer soup than I can count.

I try to give all the unwanted products back to the cashier at the checkout, but I always end up with a few surprises when I get home. Last week, the only surprise was a bag of raw, unsalted almonds. They're actually quite addictive. I single-handedly ate the whole bag myself because it's a sin to waste food and no one else would eat them. I had a stomachache for three days. The raw almonds still beat the multiple packs of fruit snacks or those awful colored marshmallows that are so miniature you can't even roast them over a campfire. At least the raw almonds are on the low-carb diet.

By the time I check out of the grocery store, we are pushing ninety minutes and everyone, including me, is ready to go home. Nick is complaining he's bored, Anna is doing gymnastics on the railing at the checkout line (the one that has a sign that says “no swinging on the railing”) and Abby is trying to open and eat just about everything in the cart. If I'm pushing the car cart, it usually doesn't fit through the checkout aisle because the wheels are too big, so it takes me twice as long to unload the groceries, and then I have to back up the car and push it around the checkout lines and through the exit just to reload my groceries. Abby is behind the wheel, steering, and she's howling with delight. I'm ready to have a meltdown, and I swear to myself I am going to sue the makers of these carts as soon as I have the time to pull together a class action suit. I'm sure I can unite mothers of young children who, like me, have experienced the firsthand consequences of the cart and related emotional distress.

Just when I think I'm through the woods, it never fails—we always forget something on the list. But who wants to go back and get it? Not me. I've had my fill. Never mind that it's usually something we really need, like chocolate chips for the cookies I promised the kids we would make when we get home. It's just not worth another trip through the store. I've thought about asking one of the strangers around me to watch my kids for a few minutes and hold my place in line, but I've never gotten up the nerve. Most of the customers around me want to get rid of me by now, and I certainly don't blame them. Plus, I can always send Doug back to the store for the chips.

The other problem with the grocery store? I always run into clients. I'm usually wearing an old pair of jeans or a sweat suit, and I'm lucky if I've combed my hair, and, no, I haven't showered. At first, my clients don't recognize me in my mommy cape. They've never seen me without high heels and lipstick. I politely say hello and offer my hand for a firm handshake. They stare at me, and then at my children. Then it dawns on them,
Lady Lawyer was pregnant all those years. I guess that means she has children of her own.
We usually have a good laugh as I introduce them to Weekend Mommy and make small talk as I chase Abby who is headed back to the soup aisle. I know they are thinking I can't control my own children. They're also looking at all the junk in my cart and thinking I must be a terrible mother. I'm careful to point out that most of the junk is actually for Doug. Sure, I've given in on the Fruit Loops and Cookie Crisp, but there's lots of produce and vegetables buried under the sugar cereal and chips.

I've heard that Internet grocery shopping is quite the rage. I can see the benefits. No screaming kids. No heavy carts. No rushing around on Saturday morning. No surprise purchases. No colored marshmallows or Cookie Crisp. No running into clients that I don't want to see on the weekend. It seems like a no-brainer; I should just do it all online.

Unfortunately, I can't give up the grocery store. I can't explain it. It all stems from my unwillingness to delegate. Besides, online shopping involves the computer. By Saturday morning, I'm tired of sitting in front of a computer, and I'm tired of my kids seeing me sit in front of a computer. Part of me thinks it's good for the kids to join me in the simple task of buying food for the family. Even if it takes us twice as long and I spend twice as much money; it's teamwork.

Adventures at Macy's

Shopping for clothes is another story. As much as I've tried, the kids and I can't achieve teamwork in the department store. When Anna was two, she was running around Macy's while Doug and I were foolish enough to think we could shop. Anna, like most kids, was intrigued by the escalator. I probably should have stopped her, but before I could she managed to figure out how to press the stop button on the escalator and completely terrified some elderly woman who almost wiped out in midstream. Luckily, no one was hurt. We got kicked out of Macy's before we even got a chance to use our coupons, and it took me awhile to get up the nerve to go back. Without Anna.

I still take my kids to department stores, although I'm much more careful around escalators. After the incident with Anna at Macy's, the manager put a warning sign and safety guard on the stop button. It was long overdue. I like to think that Anna actually saved a few lives in the process. And I usually don't take all three of them to the department store at once. Nick really hates to shop for clothes and will wear whatever I buy him, so he usually stays home. Not so with Anna. I've tried to buy her clothes without her. She won't wear them. She has her own style and makes her own fashion choices. Besides, now that she's getting a little older, she has fun shopping with Devoted Mommy. And they don't even recognize her any more at Macy's as the girl who stopped the escalator.

Abby, of course, always wants to tag along with her big sister, so we spend most of our time chasing Abby through the aisles and trying to find her when she hides inside the clothing racks. Department stores are a child's paradise for hide-and-seek. I've come close, but I haven't lost a child yet. Abby hasn't had any incidents with escalators, although she got on an elevator once alone. The door shut before we could stop her, and she ended up in the lingerie department two floors above us. Fortunately, the ladies in lingerie quickly realized Abby was out of place and tracked us down. We didn't even get kicked out of the store. I ended up buying some much-needed bras, and everyone was happy.

But Abby has developed a nasty shoplifting habit, especially with jewelry, and we often have to make unexpected returns. She probably wouldn't shoplift in department stores if I just exerted more control over her in the grocery store. It's all my fault. I should have nipped the soup and raw almonds in the bud. Now, she's moved on to bigger-ticket items. She's too young for me to explain the consequences of prison, so Anna and I have to go back and apologize to the cashier and return the jewelry. It's embarrassing, even for Anna.

When it comes to clothes, I used to be the shopping queen. These days, I rarely have the time or the energy to shop for myself. Especially the way I like to shop. It's all about the hunt. I'm never too proud to admit that Lady Lawyer finds her best deals at the outlets and the clearance rack. I learned that from my mother. Why pay full price for anything when it will go on sale next week? Unfortunately the hunt takes time, something I don't have to spare. “Sorry, Nick, I can't come to your baseball game this morning because I need to shop the twelve-hour sale, and early bird deals end at noon.”

Encouraging Amy shares my passion for bargain shopping and understands my crazy schedule. So she will call me from Vegas when she spots a high-fashion item on the clearance rack. She has the finest taste in the family, and she's learned to shop in style on a pastor's salary. When she calls, I know it must be good, and I write her a check without reservation. Doug is always suspicious and wonders why my sister has to find me clothes across the country, but even he can't argue with her taste. I always get compliments when Encouraging Amy picks out my clothes. Someone will comment, “Wow, I love that unique red suit. Where did you find it?” At this point, I should just smile politely and accept a compliment. But I can't. Instead, I have to tell the whole story—how my sister who lives on a pastor's salary is the best personal shopper around, and she finds bargain basement deals at the outlets in Vegas.

“This suit was regularly listed at $800, but Amy found it on clearance for $59.99 at the Rack.” Fellow bargain shoppers appreciate the story.

But others just give me a blank stare, as if to say, “Sorry I asked. You must be really cheap to make your sister shop for you from Vegas. Can't you just shop at the local department store like the rest of us?”

I've tried to shop for myself with the kids. It's just too hard. Nick complains the whole time. Anna just keeps bugging me to go to the girls' department. Abby keeps pulling things off the racks and throws a fit when I don't let her try them on. So I squeeze shopping in when I'm by myself. And I'm known to go without meals on business trips just to have time for the outlets. I can eat at home.

Christmas

Just when I think I have shopping under control, Christmas rolls around the corner. Why can't I just focus on preparing for the birth of Jesus? Every year, I tell myself,
It will be different next year.
Instead I continue to subject myself to a new level of insanity. When you add up immediate family, grandparents, friends, two large extended families of nieces and nephews, teachers, Sunday school helpers, and favorite babysitters, I'm buying Christmas presents for about fifty people. It's unthinkable.

My kids see me running around in circles wrapping presents and making lists, and I have to wonder what kind of message I am sending them. That the greatest event in history is celebrated by buying your friends and family lots of stuff they don't need? That more is better? Or that Devoted Mommy doesn't have time to play for the next two months because she's in charge of Christmas? Buying stuff takes lots of time, not to mention lots of mental energy and focus.