“Sometimes the laughter in mothering is the recognition of the ironies and the absurdities. Sometimes, though, it’s just pure, unthinking delight.”

—-Barbara Shapiro, O Magazine, 2003

“Mom? It’s me. My instructor told me it was okay to leave school early ‘cuz I look like I’ve been punched in the face. My head is pounding, I sneezed 21 times in a row, and I can hardly keep my eyes open. If I come home, will you make me a bed on the couch and bring me tea?”

It’s been a rough 2 weeks at the Klope house. My robust, independent children have taken over the family room, piling the couch with pillows and blankets. The coffee table is cluttered with a tissue box, a collection of cough drops, snack plates, and coffee mugs. The chihuahuas couldn’t be happier as they are the original blanket surfers.

And I’m reminded that when you’ve laid your cards down because you’re too sick to stay in the game, what you want most of all is mom to be nearby and on call.

As a young woman in her 20s, working hard to educate, dream, and discover myself, I would never have chosen to define my identity first and foremost as a mother. Neither could I have imagined that it would provide me with the occasional worry but also the infinite joy and energy that it does—day in and day out. That’s because I never dreamed I would say that the role I value most is motherhood; that I find being a mother to be the most intellectually and spiritually challenging endeavor of my life.

I did not think it would be this way. I was not initially drawn to the idea of being a mother. In fact, my earliest dreams never included children. That’s because my daddy built me a backyard playhouse that served as a kid magnet. My playmates enjoyed coming over to play and their mothers thrilled at the moments their respective tribes raced to my house. It provided them with a few moments of glorious quiet.

When it came time for my friends to go home, their departure usually came with no warning. They would hear their names being hollered from across the street and invariably leave me with the clean up.

“Don’t leave! There’s a big mess in here!” But my words would fall on deaf ears. It seemed to me that motherhood amounted to endless picking up and cleaning. Early on I decided there were better things to do.

That narrow outlook on motherhood stayed with me for years. When asked during high school what I wanted to do as an adult I would speak of graduating from college and diving into a high-profile career. Staying at home with children seemed mundane and stifling. I assumed I would parent at some point, but I could not imagine when or how many children I would have.

As if to punctuate my point I chose the role of the classic over-achieving child and juggled an endless number of activities—choosing this thing or that because it looked like something fun to do or I liked the kids who were doing them.

I danced, played the piano and embraced youth group activities at church with a passion. I helped to produce many a school yearbook, wrote more meeting minutes and organized more school-wide activities than I can count. I studied with intensity and kept my sites pointed toward college because being a parent seemed to be something anyone could do and I wanted to be somebody. I had a deep-down need to stand out.

Then I met a young pastor who happily gave up a promising career as a biophysicist to become a Christian pastor. He explained to me that worthiness comes not from what you do or accomplish but by accepting the gift of life and eternal love God offers each one of us through a relationship with Himself and His son.

That growing awareness changed my outlook on life to the very core. My striving took on new meaning. I wanted to experience all that life had to offer me and I longed to live in tandem with God. I wanted to experience His presence and wrap myself in His values. I wanted to live fully and deeply, to marry and parent and carve a life filled with love, learning, and sacrifice.

So I’ve placed cool wash clothes on flushed foreheads these past few days and served more mugs of chicken soup than I can count. I’ve thanked God that I can still offer love and comfort to kids usually too grown-up and busy to hang around the house for very long. And I’ve thanked my husband for the pleasure of parenting alongside him.

This week my Facebook wall declares my enthusiasm: “Joan is loving being a mom to 3 wonderful kids!” Yes, I’m posting and celebrating. Being a mom is the coolest.