“You’ve sure got your hands full!”

I wrote this post quite a while ago, and found it again today.  What is it about “You’ve got your hands full,” anyway? 

Based on my experience, this is the top phrase used by strangers toward moms with a young child (or children).  Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t count how many times I’ve heard it.

There was a time my feathers were greatly ruffled by that comment.  Now, though, I can’t seem to remember why it was such a big deal.  But my theory is that it had a lot to do with sleep deprivation and my large degree of pride. Also, possibly, lingering post-pregnancy hormone fluctuations and youthful swagger.

My reaction nowadays to “You’ve got your hands full”  is a smile and my agreement.  Yes, clearly, my hands are full.  I receive this statement as an offering of solidarity; of respect.  Yes, my hands are full.  And this is the glorious truth about my life.

But to many, this phrase is like gasoline on the smoldering embers of latent crazy.  Things will blow up if you use this phrase.  I don’t recommend it.  And I’m not calling anyone crazy;  I do think, though, that there is a lot going on inside the mind of any mom at any given moment.  A lot.  Things can get rather tense and emotional at times.

I believe that, to those who take offense, the “hands full” phrase communicates, “Whoa. This girl cannot handle all her children.” or  “Who let this inexperienced, clearly incapable person reproduce?  Oh, and the little one smells like sour milk.  Ugh.”   I do recognize that’s a lot to read into such a statement.  But, having been there…. yeah.

And now, I don’t know if it’s age, or actual maturity, but I see that reading so much into a comment that is so often made in innocence communicates nothing more clearly than that I have preconceived notions about how I appear to the rest of the world–  I have judged those around me for my belief that they have judged me! If I feel like I am not up to the task at hand, of course I instantly assume that everyone else knows i’m not up to it; that they can sense my insecurities and will prey on them.

Yesterday i was walking in to the gym (with my kids) in late afternoon, a time we are not usually there.  A man walked in behind us, I couldn’t see him before he spoke, “Well, what do you do in your free time?”  He’s being kind; making a gentle joke– he gets it.  “Free time?” I replied, “I hardly remember what that is.”  He laughs. “You’re doing good there, mama,” his parting statement.  I know there were times that I would have misunderstood the first statement; assumed that the stranger was unkindly commenting on the ‘luxurious’ lifestyle of the stay-at-home mama.  You know, that old “laying around watching soaps and eating bon-bons” thing.  Which is irrelevant, anyway. And had I acted on that former assumption and given the fella a dirty look like I probably would have done, well, there go two strangers thinking the worst of one another.  Lovely contribution to the world there, me.

The more I exercise the notion of pouring Christ’s grace and love that I have so underservingly received back into this world, I realize that a big part of it is just making the kindest assumptions about other folks; the benefit of the doubt, and leaving my hands open to give away grace as freely as I have received.

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