qualifications

I am the amazing supermom. You may have seen me at the zoo the other day. I was the one with a kid strapped on my back, and a kid in a stroller being pushed by another kid, and holding a kid, with a few kids whining that they were not in said stroller. There were moments I felt like an actual superhero, for taking my offspring out for an educational venture on such a pleasant day. We discussed what a great job God did, making the hippo so wonderfully for living in its mostly underwater environment. I kept my babies in their cloth diapers, saving the earth and money, don't you know. And I fed the whole crew for around $22, which is saying something for zoo prices. I didn't fly or rescue any endangered species, but I was doing good.
But there were several moments, several, where I didn't feel very super. The fountains were turned off, so I had to keep telling my kids not to go where water would normally have kept them from going. My almost two year old was in danger of his life or of separation more than a few times. The biggest kid was pretty sure she would die of exhaustion at times. And the looks we got . . .
Making a scene used to not bother me. In fact, in my early days of motherhood, with three under three, I got quite a kick out of it. Then it changed, and I was out with three little ones and a big round belly. After number four, I didn't go out as much alone with them. And since then, the more kids I have, the more stares and comments there are. I forget sometimes that it's not normal to have so many treasures. In a way I feel like I did back in grade school on book fair day, with more money than I had ever carried around, kind of showing it off, a little cocky. I am so blessed to have all of them. I love the children God has given me. It doesn't dawn on me, in my day to day life, that other people don't see it that way.

Until I leave the house. And as the day wears on, at the zoo, store, doctor's office, I remember that not everyone knows that children are a good thing, and that the 7th child is as much a treasure as the first and second. And it starts to wear down my confidence. And I become more and more aware of my shortcomings.
And I start to wonder if maybe they're right. Maybe I am in over my head. My house is a mess. I don't know what to do about the toys. I need about two hours just to put laundry away. I live on a survival level. Are there clean spoons? Clean underwear? Diapers, cereal, milk? When did the kids last have a bath? Where are the toothbrushes? Why is the floor wet? Who left a cup of water there? Where are your socks? Where are your pants?
These questions and many others plague my daily existence. But the real question is this: am I doing a good enough job? There are so many areas in which I need improvement - which one should I focus on? I'm the chinese acrobat spinning plates on top of sticks. If I add another, will I drop one? If I try to lose weight, will homeschooling suffer? I got the living room cleaned up, but it's time for dinner, can you stop by Taco Bell? Well, I had the living room cleaned up when I called you.
Then, in the midst of the voices of my critics, some of them quite loud, I hear the Giver of Life speak silently to my aching heart, "If the only thing that qualifies you is that you said yes to ME, and that I have given them to you, is that enough?" Oh, I want it to be. But there's mold growing on our science project (which was not to grow mold) and I am behind on my logs, and am ironing on a shirt a day basis, and I'm so hungry the baby food smells good. There are kinex EVERYWHERE, I don't know where the broom is, the vacuum is broken, and the three year old has turned the upstairs sink into a hot tub for little toy cheetahs and giraffes.
On the other hand, if I am living my life for an audience of one, one who numbers my days and the hairs on my head, one who measures eternally and not by appearances, one who shed his own blood to cover my weaknesses, shortcomings and utter failures, well, maybe that one's approval is enough. Maybe that and a cup of good coffee.