Mountains and Plateaus

Yesterday, as I pulled into our local grocery store, it hit me: motherhood is just like driving standard.

OK, before you dismiss this thought as out of left field, or at best a weird over-generalization, let me explain myself.  I alternate between driving our two cars - one of which is standard, the other is automatic; in the beginning, I made the decision between cars based on whether there were any hills between me and my destination, but now it's whichever car my husband has left home, or which I can get out of the driveway quicker. 

Yesterday, I was in the automatic.  I pulled into the parking lot, and in a reflex move that many veteran standard transmission drivers can relate to, I found myself pushing in a non-existent clutch with my left foot as I hit the brake to stop.  Then, as I entered the store, another reflex had me pulling out a car with a seat to put my daughter in - only to realize that I'd left her at home with her dad.  That's when I realized the strange similarity between these two seemingly disparate pieces of my life.

You see, we bought a standard transmission car right after our daughter was born last year.  If you're like me and didn't learn to drive standard back when you were learning to drive, you'll know that to learn later on is basically tantamount to learning to drive all over again.  All of the easy familiarity you take for granted in say, driving across town, up a hill, and through a few stop signs, suddenly disappears, and everything requires this ridiculous focus, concentration, and energy.  It feels like you'll never be able to master shifting while doing or thinking about anything else; it feels like you'll never be able to really drive again. 

For me, motherhood - bringing a tiny newborn baby home from the hospital - felt exactly the same way.  Everything I'd ever taken for granted in my adult life, such as showering, going to bed, waking up, dressing, eating - all the fundamental basics, as well as a whole lot of tangentials, suddenly became painfully difficult, even occasionally impossible, to accomplish.  I wasn't sure how I'd ever be able to focus on anything else except this all-consuming thing called being a Mom; I wasn't sure if I'd ever feel like I was really living again, and not just checking off the check boxes of what LW needed done for her each day.

And yet, as steep as the learning curve in both areas has been, I feel like in some ways I'm finally seeing how it's possible.  My automatic reactions in the parking lot and store yesterday prove it:  driving a standard has become second nature, and in like manner, so has being a Mom.  I know that whenever we have our next baby, he or she will create a whole new learning experience, and things will be chaotic for a while.  But thank heavens, I never have to bring my first baby home from the hospital again.  The next time around, I'll already know that a time of stability will eventually arrive: that we'll reach the plateau in between mountains, and will eventually learn to re-balance this crazy thing called life.  We're always moving onwards and upwards, and God never gives us too much time in these plateaus, so I'm always so thankful for the gift of realizing when I'm in one: to take time to rest in the feeling that I've at least temporarily mastered most of the tasks required of me on a day to day basis.

What about you all?  What metaphors have you found apt for the transitions and challenges in your lives?  Are you in a plateau, or fighting your way up a mountain?