"Passionate Housewives," pt 10

The Invasion of the Baby Snatchers, pt. 2

…Even those of us moms who have chosen to go against the grain can still be lulled by feminism’s lies.  We can be lured by the insidious notion that being separated from our home and little ones is a good thing.  We too can become convinced that it’s better for everyone if Mom pursues her own interests.  I know; it’s happened to me.

When my children were small, I remember considering the use of a mothers’ day out program at a nearby, local church.  I wasn’t sure it was the best idea, since I was truly grateful to be home with my children; but our family had just moved, I had a newborn baby, and I was tired of chasing a toddler in the midst of opening boxes and running a home. So the thought of a “break” a few times a week sounded good.

I also reasoned that it might give me opportunities to “minister” to others – opportunities seemingly lost in the day-in and day-out of mashing bananas and potty training. I considered the various “women’s ministries” that were available at the church we were attending and wondered which ones matched the time slot of my newly-discovered hours of freedom. I reasoned that it would be good for my son to interact with other toddlers, learn new Bible songs, and obtain a little preschool-style education that I didn’t always have time to provide.

So one day, I did it. I took my two-year-old bundle of bona fide boy-power to a Christian mother’s day out program.  It would be “good for him,” I reasoned.  And “good for me too,” I thought, as I eagerly considered the free time I’d have.  As I signed the paperwork, one of the workers looked at my sleeping, eight-week-old angel of a girl and asked, “Will she be staying too?”

“No!” I answered protectively.  Almost immediately a charge of guilt shot through my soul.  Why was I willing to give up the “difficult” one, but not my angelic sleeping newborn?  As I drove away, I reminded myself that it was only for a few hours.  I tried to pretend I didn’t hear his cries in my head.  Yet after several “play times” at mothers’ day out, it didn’t get any better.  He seemed to know as soon as we drove into the parking lot that mommy was going to leave him here – at this place.

One day, as I left the building, I brushed my fingertips on the paper animals on the wall that were entering Noah’s Ark and tried to convince myself that leaving him here was a good thing.  “It’s a Christian environment,” I told myself. However, as I drove away, the thought hit me, “What in the world am I doing?  This is what I’ve wanted all along – to be able to stay home with my babies!  If I’m not forced to send him to daycare, then why would I want to leave him crying in a ‘mother’s day out’ program?  What’s the difference?”

Deep down, I knew that I hadn’t left him in the care of others for my feigned reason of socialization or so that he could enjoy a Christian environment; he received every bit of that at home and more.  The reason I had made my choice was plainly and honestly spelled out in the name of the program, “Mothers’ Day Out.”  It was so that I could have a day out – a day off – time for myself without the “burden” of caring for my busy toddler.

Almost in tears, I turned the van around, hurriedly parked, and ran back into the church.  When I got there, I observed a little girl in a playpen who desperately needed a nose-wiping – though nobody seemed to notice.  I heard another toddler about my son’s age, screaming in a rage over being “locked” in his high chair – he had been “mean” to the other toddlers.  One of the teachers told me he was sentenced to the high chair often.

I gathered my little one and headed to the van, never to return.  I thanked God for the option that so many women don’t have – of being with my children – not being forced to leave my precious little ones while I worked at a job to support them.

I realized right then and there that feminism’s empty charm had tugged on my heart – that even as a Christian woman, I was vulnerable.  While I had a “choice” of whether to tend to my home or to seek outside pursuits away from my family, I recognized that I was prone to wander whenever I let God’s grand vision for womanhood slip from my mind.