Irrelevant.

No one becomes a mother for the recognition. I can think of about 159,231 jobs that would get me recognition without the broken butt, jello stomach, and on many days, utter frustration.

There's no "thanks for being a great mom to your kids" cards and no extra vacation days for a job well done.

People acknowledge your cute kids or little terrors, depending on which candy store or airplane you're in. They admire your stroller or sling, not necessarily the great taste that you had for picking it. And all this only occurs if people actually feel safe enough to come up to you because you know, you're a mom.

On my low days, when I'm caught on the merry-go-round that is the routine of my existence and my daughter begs and pleads for her "great daddy," I wonder about my relevance in this world as a mother.

It's a broken record in my head: It will go on without me. Someone can feed my son a bottle. Someone can play dress-up with my daughter. Someone can clean my house (oh God won't they clean my house!).

And chances are, they might just do a better job than me. 

But in our blogs, we share these stories about our lives that to many might seem incredibly mundane, but to us, they are who we are and what we do. We commiserate at first poops in the tub, muffin tops, and hemmorhoids.

We reach out to each other when we need it most.

And we take what we think might be totally irrelevant about our lives, and make it relevant to someone else. Because while someone can feed my son a bottle, no one other than me can describe the feeling I have at 2am when I'm rubbing is round head and singing softly to him as he nurses back to sleep.

I may not be the best at doing it, but I'm the only one who can tell that story. And to him, I'm the best baby soother out there.

Sometimes that's what matters most.   

But suddenly, mothers are a hot commodity. It's not just the bazillion celebrities making the baby-mama thing incredibly hip, but it's the realization by marketers that moms hold the power of buying.

Surprise! We are relevant!

However, I wonder if those people (not all, just some) that are banging down our doors are the ones who pass us on the street and roll their eyes when our child throws a fit. Maybe they could be the ones who ask to be moved away from the mother and her children at the restaurant.

Our presence, to them, is irrelevant.

But damned if they think our buying power as a community isn't relevant. These stories of mothering that we share daily are suddenly totally relevant to them, or so they pretend.

"We love your stories of poop would you like to try some free diapers?" [please please please because when you talk about them people buy them because mothers are a fucking tight knit community and our clients need you and your snotty nosed kids].

It's clear to me now that in this endeavor of raising children that we share, we're going to change the world. On many days, it does seem like no one cares. When our pictures are taken down and our videos are banned it sends the message that perhaps our presence is insignificant.

That perhaps my presence is insignificant.

But no matter how many times our kids reject us during the day, or that we're relegated to wiping up piss off the floor, we must believe within ourselves that our work is valuable. Regardless of how many PR flacks email you about their free diapers or your blog friends reassure you that you're doing an amazing job, you alone must believe it's true.

It's our legacy. It's our kids' legacy.

Mothers are relevant.

We are relevant.

For Deb and all my fellow moms out there who are feeling irrelevant today.

Comments

[401k advisor]

A real job...what would you do with your 1 year old? I don't see how that isn't considered a "real" job by people, especially these days.

[KELLEYReyes33]

Cars and houses are not very cheap and not every person can buy it. But, personal loans was invented to aid different people in such kind of hard situations.

[Bobita]

If only I had the right words, I would explain to you how meaningful this post was to me at 2 o'clock on an (otherwise irrelevant) Tuesday morning.

[Occidental Girl]

It's so easy to get in the mindset of "anybody can do this, they don't need me!" What a bad feeling.

I really needed to read this today. Thanks for the reminder.

[Lara David's mom]

My daughter, Lara David, blogs. Some of those blogs are about me. She told me last night about this post and I came to read it. I don't remember feeling irrelevent. I remember feeling tired, frustrated, alone, and just plain "not enough" at various times. But right now I have to work to remember those times because the happier memories overshadow those and my relationship with Lara today is worth so much more than every negative, tired thought I ever had. Take heart, all you mothers of future adults! Your children will recognize your worth, praise you for your efforts, and write blogs that will make you cry (in very good ways).

[Damselfly]

I sure hope you're right. Even when we seem irrelevant, we could be silently, sneakily changing the world while no one is watching.

[Jen @ amazingtrips]

Oh damn. Pampers just sent me several huge boxes of diapers to review. I didn't even think about the deep implications from this, I'm just so happy to have several huge boxes of FREE diapers.

Being a parent is the most relevant, important job in the world. The people that we are raising TODAY are who will be running the world, tomorrow.

[Weetzie]

Thanks, Kristen. I really needed to hear this today. I needed to be reminded that I am good at something, ONE thing, THIS thing, and that it is not a stupid thing to be good at.

[Jill]

A long time friend (single and childless) just remarked yesterday that she's astonished to have just realized that I'm just as frantic, just as behind schedule and just as busy as she is. I love the woman to death, but I've been a mom for six years and she JUST noticed? I'd say I'm way busier than she is and way more in tune with reality, but unless she's willing to take over for me, I guess she'll never get it.

[Vicky]

Today I was feeling tired. Cranky and low. I felt stagnant and if I wrote one more unpaid thing that goes unnoticed I would scream. Because combine that with being in a house surrounded by tiny plastic pieces, a child that eats day old cereal off the floor and a dog that just pisses on the floor I thought I might lose it.

Yet I didn't even have the energy for that.

Thanks for this post. I may not feel totally relevant today but I don't feel completely irrelevant either.

[BOSSY]

Thanks girl - in that case you put the 'rele' in relevant.

[Erika]

Thank you.

I was already crying about how crappy this job feels sometimes.

Thank you for noticing.

[jessicab]

That..my dear...was beautiful. Thank you!

[Angela]

I'm delurking to say, Kristen, you are relevant and thank you for writing.
I also wanted to acknowledge Kate's comments, if anyone knows who wrote those amazing and heartfelt words, please visit my blog and let me know, I would really like to visit their blog, thank you.

[Christina]

I thought I would enjoy quitting my job and focusing on mothering/school/blogging only. Instead, I often find myself feeling irrelevant and drifting.

You're right, though, we are relevant, not just to our own kids, but to society as a whole. Thanks for the emotional boost.

[Mrs. Chicky]

Not just relevant but fan-fucking-tastic. Fabulous, fantastic and relevant.

[Veronica]

Thankyou so much! I am having one of those days and I needed to hear it.

Now someone tell my little terror it is time to nap already. Please?

[Heather]

I just finished a little crying fit because of how irrelevant I was feeling this evening. So thanks.

[mom101]

This is powerful and awesome and true. And it has nothing to do with pr pitches for diapers. We're lucky we have each other in a lot of ways. Online and off.

And now I'm going to go gag myself with a puppy wrapped in a rainbow.

[Christy]

Forgive me for not reading all of the other comments before posting...I have very limited time to catch up on my blogs today.

Kristen, thank you for this post. I needed this today--how did you know? Having recently moved to across country, away from all of my family and friends, I am feeling super irrelevant on most days. While I am not truly depressed--I love my new town, I am struggling to find my own "place" within it.

Thank you for reminding me to find the relevance in myself before expecting others to validate me. I really did need to hear this today.

[Jennifer]

It's hard to remember sometimes our relevance when our kid screams for Daddy and when we're at our wit's end, picking up a screaming toddler off the grocery store floor. Thanks for the reminder that we are, in fact, relevant.

[Bill]

Your presence isn't insignificant - what the heck else would I read every day if your blog wasn't here? :)

[mldubose]

I'm guessing you broke your butt giving birth. I actually fractured my tailbone falling down the stairs, and it hurts like hell. And it's not like they can pour a cast up your butthole, so they just tell you that it has to heal on its own.

It's funny that fathers get credit for damn near anything. If a guy just smiles at the kid, he's "father of the year". It's not like he risked his life to grow the thing or bring it into the world. I mean, how hard is it to shoot semen?

[witchypoo]

Really, by the lack of acknowledgement mothers get, and lack of remuneration teachers get, it becomes obvious that children are considered marginalized. Therefore, raising them is not considered valuable.We perform the love's labour it is for the world at large: raising future good citizens.
If anyone thought about the future, they would be better stewards of the present.
How did you break your butt?

[Monica]

you couldn't have written this post at a more perfect time... It's been a very rough week for me too... I needed to hear that I am important too..

[mothergoosemouse]

Sometimes I really wonder how I'm going to handle three, feeling as incompetent and irrelevant as I do already.

[justmylife]

Thanks, I needed to know that I do matter. My husband called wanting to know what I was doing and answered before I could with, "Sitting around doing nothing, it must be nice." I know he was having a bad day, but he ruined my day! So Thanks for your post, I feel better.

[Brighton]

Now I feel bad, I ask to be seated somewhere other than where the mom and her kids are in restaurants- AND I HAVE FOUR KIDS OF MY OWN!

We are relevant, we count- amazing that some are just catching on to that.

[Hyphen Mama]

Absolutely brilliant! Kristen, you say what we all feel. Kate... thank you for sharing that story, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who's feeling a little lighter and a little brighter today because we read it.

When my son's first word was Mama, I knew I'd done something amazing. When I'm out of the house, my daughter stops screaming "I want my daddy" and cries for Mommy.

p.s. Yes, I do have a retirement plan. 3 of them. That's the great thing about having worked for 22 years before having kids!!

[kate]

Just when you think... I got an "I love you" email this a.m. from DH from nowhere. I can't remember from whose blog I pulled this on 9/13, but it's wonderful. Mamas, give yourselves a big hug!

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking. That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible. It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not! No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going she's going she's gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam! He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table."That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there." As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

[Laural]

What a great post.
I can totally relate. The other day a nasty blog called my stories about my son "as boring as watching paint dry."
And continued on to say how all mommy bloggers are boring. It was a stupid comment that was supposed to be mean, but it stung because to me writing about my day-to-day life is relevant to me. I work full time, and try to limit the "my kid is so cute" stories - so that's where I shared it.
This post made me feel a lot better about things. It's weird how one stupid comment can bug you so much.

[Julie Pippert]

People keep saying and showing statistics and market studies that prove mothers are powerhouses.

But there aren't matching actions behind words.

Perhaps they are afraid of our power.

Julie
Using My Words
http://theartfulflower.blogspot.com

[PunditMom]

Thanks for this reminder. It did me ego good. PunditGirl tries her best some days to make me feel irrelevant. And sometimes I almost believe here -- heck, who can't make a box of mac and cheese or read a story? But when I'm gone for a day or two, I hear from others about her sense of needing and wanting me. I try to hang on to that since I know she's a kid who won't give me those wamr fuzzies to my face.

As for bigger world relevance, I have a feeling if we keep making our voices heard that in a few years (not soon enough, I know) we will be a bigger force than anyone ever suspected. Here's hoping I'm not delusional.

[Me]

For what it's worth, to all you mom's out there (I'm not yet) I do appreciate my mom. One of my older friends who I used to babysit for once said something to me about feeling unappreciated by her daughter, and all I could say was that someday I felt sure she would realize (her daughter is a lot like me, only about 15 years younger :) ). The fact is, while I try to tell my parents whene I can, I know the sacrafices and love them for it. I know it's not easy. And though I do get frusterated w/ those parents who choose let their kids roll through the airport on those damn shoeskates coming w/in an inch of taking my life, I also find myself looking at that mom who just looks like she is DONE, and think about this and other blogs. And I try to give a knowing smile-if only b/c I know what my friend goes through. So from one "single gal" to all you mothers-I say that I know you don't have it easy. And while someone could probaby come in and clean the house more throughly or whatever (they are called cleaning ladies ;) ), no one can give your childern the love like you can, even if they don't yet know it. So kuddos to you all-God knows I could never be a SAHM (I'd get arrested before their 1st birthday). I give you much credit.

[Trish]

Here's the problem: when you're a SAHM (like I am), you are often made to feel as though you are not a contributing member of society, if you aren't working outside the home. Even my dopey husband sometimes treats me like I do nothing, while I'm here. If your own husband doesn't see your importance, how can the rest of the world? Our relevance, therefore, is most important in how we see ourselves. Whether we are relevant to others is...well...irrelevant.....

[Summer]

Thanks for this. We all need a boost in realizing our relevance once in a while. It's tough when day in and day out taking care of our kids results in mad temper tantrum throwing and screams for daddy.
I would never give it up but damn...I need to feel important too.

[mldubose]

Melissa-

You guys at home are brave souls. Making the sacrifice to stay home with the kids is a tough one, trying to do your best for your families, perhaps still having to explain to people that you really do work still.

Please, Please, Please, Please don't think I'm trying to start a new topic or problem, but in the whole realm of "how valuable is motherhood", do any of you have an IRA yet? People don't tend to worry about a SAHM's retirement like they do a dad's.

[mldubose]

No one really ever makes a logical decision to breed. But when you do decide to have a kid, there is this subconscious need to put a little part of yourself out into the world and make a contribution by creating life that adds to the world. So what if your "contribution" is incontinent and screams a lot? It won't last forever.

Sure it's a thankless job for now, but the day will come when your children tell you that they are glad that you aren't like other parents who let their kids do X. And it may be sooner than you think. You won't be wiping their butts forever. Or cleaning up their vomit and piss.

They'll be developing boobs (not the boy, I hope!) and pubic hair before you know it, and you'll be wondering where the time has gone!

But really, the only thanks you get is the thanks you give yourself. And isn't that all you really need anyway?

[melissa]

Thanks. I am feeling extra irrelevant today. My husband just called to say I need a real job, and he no longer thinks the SAHM services are valuable. I think he should run this by my one-year-old first. I have just spent the morning calling English departments. :(