I watch myself as if I’m standing outside my own body. I’m flushing the downstairs bathroom toilet. I watch it flush fast and furiously and then I listen as it makes that wonderful sucking sound. I repeat the activity over and over and, as I do, I begin to feel my mind clearing and my body relaxing. I feel cleansed, happy and at peace. All is well. The toilet flushes.

Alone in the basement, watching the toilet flush properly is a relaxing activity for me. We have had Les, the rotor-router guy, clean out our downstairs toilet several times in the last three years with his machine and snake device. The last time he was here he had to remove the toilet so as to recover a Popsicle stick, a G.I. Joe, and a lion king so it would flush properly without flooding the basement. I flush the toilet daily just like I do my 20-minute Winsor Pilates. And sometimes I don’t even realize how long I’ve been downstairs...alone... flushing the toilet.
 
Recently my oldest son was irritated with me. He was waiting with his three brothers and their four male cousins in the family van so McDonalds could feed them dinner. I was alone downstairs, flushing the toilet. After only 5 minutes, (that’s my story), Marco ran inside and yelled downstairs, “Mom, what are you doing? We’ve been waiting for 15 minutes already, LET’S GO!”

“I’m just flushing the toilet, I’ll be right there,” I replied.

I was enjoying my minutes alone, in an empty house without hearing my name called, without the shouts, screams and swishing sounds of swords and light sabers coupled with testosterone. The sweet sound of the toilet flushing gave me such pleasure that it almost alarmed me. Had I settled for a life too simple...too dull? Was my life “in the toilet?”

In my wildest dreams I would never have envisioned myself living in International Falls, MN, the Icebox of the Nation. Although I had dreamed of a life on stage as an actress, (I’d even gone to college and gotten a degree in theatre) I now have my greatest, most challenging and rewarding role; one performed as mother. All of the characteristics that make for a well-trained actress; patience, focus, strength and compassion, are also attributes that go with my present role. And I interact with four characters on a daily basis.

The rewards that go with motherhood are often not received until the people that gave you that title are out of the house, (and that event in itself can be very rewarding). Every time I use the bathroom in the home of our family friends, the Areharts, I read the wisdom of an unknown author hanging on the wall. The message is simple and true: “A hundred years from now, it will not matter what kind of car I drove, what kind of house I lived in, or how much was in my bank account but the world might be a better place because I made a difference in the life of a child.” My children are my most enduring legacy, not my wealth or accomplishments. I get it.

But is there any fun for a mother living out this simple truth in a simple town? This thought was something I contemplated over my pint of Haagen-Dazs butter pecan ice cream as I was finishing my last forkful and wondering of the nutrition and “good” protein value of the pecans (I’ve found that using a fork enables me to better rake in the flavor). As I was enjoying the reward of an entire pint of Haagen-Dazs, I read their simple philosophy on the outside of the container: “Find the purest and finest ingredients in the world and craft them into an ice cream that can only be called Haagen-Dazs.” And I thought, motherhood really has the same simple philosophy: “Teach your children what is noble, true and pure and love and craft them in a way so they may go out into the world and make it a better place.” Okay, again, I get it. But I’m still trying to answer the question; “Am I having fun yet?”

Recently I did...have fun. I went to my family’s home (another small town community 200 miles away) to visit my mother, aunt and sister-in-law, (some of my favorite people), and I didn’t bring the boys with me. Well that is not entirely true; I brought my oldest son, Marco, who is almost 11, as a companion because we both enjoy Fannie Flagg books on tape. My brother and sister-in-law who live at “home base” and help operate Maplelag, the family resort, have four boys but they weren’t mine to parent that particular weekend. I completely enjoyed myself as I antiqued, read, talked uninterrupted, (except for my mother a few times), and cut up my own meal when we went out for dinner. “I’m a mother and I’m having fun”, I thought.
 
But I always say the best part of leaving is coming home to see my husband and the boys. I also find the more I do for myself (like performing, taking a class or trip) the more I reflect on who I am and my purpose and the more I find balance in my life as a mother. I want to be an amazing mom and to be that I sometimes have to do things just for me and in the end I guess that’s not selfish at all because, “if Mama ain’t happy...ain’t nobody happy.”
 
Within a half hour of my arrival home I wanted to turn around and walk out the door...alone. My husband wasn’t home to greet me. He was at his mother’s trailer house installing a washing machine. My husband’s sister, whom we refer to as “Saint Sharon,” had been helping out for the weekend. She wanted to leave and “go for a smoke” at Barney’s air-conditioned family restaurant as soon as I had arrived.

International Falls may set records for being cold but it can also compete as a hot spot when it reaches a temperature of 99 degrees. When Sharon wasn’t inside the house experiencing what it felt like to live in Hades, she was outside watching the boys run through the sprinkler as she smoked and combated mosquitoes that could have carried her away, even if she did weigh close to 300 pounds.

My boys greeted me with lots of hugs and kisses and then had their stories and tattles to tell. What also greeted me was a sticky floor from syrup used on frozen waffles (one of three things that are on the meal menu for my son Joey), a major water leak under the sink, what looked to be like seven loads of laundry, Peter’s broken arm in a cast, (and because he had submersed it in water within a half hour of my homecoming I now had to take him back to the hospital to get it recast).  There was also Monopoly money sprinkled all over the floor, and finally my son Marco (whom I had taken with me), was coming up the basement stairs crying because his brothers had found his secret toy hideout and now the miniature light sabers and removable hands from his Star Wars guys were missing along with two army guys and 8 dollars from his wallet. I asked him if he had enough money left over so both Sharon and I could go to Barney’s.
 
When I was in college I was in the musical, Working, based on the novel by Studs Terkel about different people in the work force. (Incidentally, this is the same college where I dated a guy who I later watched on TV accept a golden globe for the cast of the hit HBO drama of which he was a part, while I changed a diaper). I got to play the newsboy. I loved the part because it was fun and it had a great song to go with it. My friend Lisa played the part of the housewife and boy was I glad it was her and not me. The housewife part was depressing and so was the song. People at school used to mistake Lisa and me for each other all the time. I suppose the part could have been mine but upon a closer look it was clear that Lisa could play the part of a woman and I was better suited as newsboy.

Lisa sang out, “All I am is just a housewife, nothing more, nothing less.”

The song proceeded to talk of laundry and no one appreciating you and other sad thoughts. Being a housewife was not a career choice I planned on making but I thought, “If I change my mind, I’m singing a different song.”

I can’t say I planned the housewife and mother role. It just happened. But I’m glad it did. And...I have fun...with my boys—husband included. I’m now at the place in my life where I’m happy with who I am. And because of this I am free to be silly, to be me. My boys think it is great, having ice cream for breakfast, dancing to old musicals in a circle, wearing costumes to dinner, and playing musical chairs because they do it with their mother (and they’re young enough not to be embarrassed of me). 

 When it comes to self worth and self-esteem I only get in trouble when I start comparing myself to others. It’s a trap towards “mommy-destruct.” I know who the character of Debbie is and I try and laugh at who she is not. She is not a baker. Our Christmas cookie selection this year was Fig Newtons and Chips Ahoy.

But on the other hand, Mother Debbie can dress up as Mother Mary, costume her husband as Joseph, decorate David with cotton balls for a lamb, adorn Marco and Joey as shepherds and hail Peter as one king so we can gather round to read the Christmas story. Once I started to focus on my strengths rather than my weakness and realized the great purpose and blessing of raising my boys well...I actually started to have fun.  

Being a mom requires me to wear a lot of different hats. I have been able to take on more roles being a mother than I would ever have dreamed. Presently, I’m content and happy with my part. I love the characters I interact with on a daily basis and the challenging scenes that come my way. I realize I’m being rewarded right now by having the opportunity to raise little boys into men of character.

“It is important to celebrate the seasons in our life rather than to simply endure them and if we choose to just endure, we have the danger of letting life slip away imperceptibly....” (Tim Hansel, When I Relax I Feel Guilty).

Honestly, some days I can barely get through a scene and on those days I just choose to go on automatic pilot and get through the day. But mostly I choose to celebrate who I am and what I have. My life gives me pleasure and sometimes those pleasures are simple; sleeping children, a pint of ice cream, and a toilet that flushes. I want to simply do and be my best, not forgetting, of course, to have a lot of fun while I’m at it.