Monday, July 6, 2015

Working hard or hardly working?

No doubt you've heard that parenting is the hardest job in the world. I hear it all the time. And what can I do but smile and nod humbly as if to say, "Yes, yes, I know. Hardest job in the world. And here I do it every single day!"

Seriously. My hands are FULL.

I'll take the praise or pity or whatever it is people are feeling when they look at me with wide eyes and say seriously, "I could never do what you do." But I don't believe it. Because honestly? (Shhh! Don't tell anyone.) This job is not that hard.

Demanding? Sure. Important? Beyond measure. Messy, chaotic, irritating, push you to the brink of insanity and then whine that you're not getting the chocolate milk fast enough? YES. There's no doubt it's a wild ride. And some days are really tough. But compared to what real work looks like? I think I've got a pretty sweet deal.

Another crazy day at the office...

I still find reasons to complain and feel sorry for myself though. Like every single time we try to leave the house on time and I end up standing at the front door with all my stuff in my arms, banging my head against the wall while the boys scurry around looking for their shoes and their stufties and suddenly realize they forgot to finish breakfast or brush their teeth even though they had been specifically reminded on three separate occasions to do just that.

Or when we get home past bedtime and I suddenly remember that the boys have camp in the morning which means we will have to:

A) Get up and get dressed at a reasonable hour.

B) Leave the house on time.



This is exactly what happened Sunday night.

We spent the day at Two Rivers Mansion, celebrating a dear friend's 40th birthday. It was one of those days when you want to keep high-fiving yourself like, "This is my life?! Woohoo! Yay, self!" It basically felt like we were in the this painting:

But with hula hoops and corn hole.

It was awesome.

So awesome that we stayed way past bedtime stargazing, listening to the band and drinking cocktails. By the time we got home and I remembered about camp, it was a pretty rude awakening. You do not live in a painting, dummy. You live HERE. In the house with no printer paper and dirty clothes and nothing appropriate for a lunchbox.

"I can't believe I forgot about camp!" I whined. "I have to print off all these forms and the only paper I can find is card stock or paper with bad guys drawn all over it. I haven't been to the store all weekend...what am I going to pack for lunch?! How early do I need to get up? What are the boys supposed to wear? Is there anything cleanish in the hamper or will they have to wear swim trunks for shorts? Why do none of these water bottles and lids go together? What is happening in this drawer? Are we out of baggies? Seriously?! HOW ARE WE OUT OF BAGGIES???"

As I was freaking out, Bill was doing what I recently trained him to do. Listen, empathize, and for the love of God, DO NOT TRY TO HELP!

"That sucks, babe."

It's kind of a joke because it's what I said I wished he would say to me instead of trying to fix everything one time in an argument and now it's exactly what he says anytime I have a problem (please see here for the best explanation EVER of how differently men and women deal with problems). I'm not gonna lie though - I totally prefer, "that sucks babe," to him stressing out and trying to fix everything.

But after a few minutes of my rant, he totally flipped the script.

"Totally sucks about the lunches, babe."

"I know, right?" I said, wallowing in the sympathy. "And it's not just ONE lunch, it's TWO."

"Whew. That's a lot," he said smiling. "What are you going to DO?"

Well, for one, I was not going to detect the sarcasm. "Don't forget about the forms I'm supposed to print," I said in a huff.

"Oh, right. The whole paper situation. Whew."

"I know! Like we all just have paper lying around that hasn't been drawn on..."

"I feel ya. I mean, I have to close like $600,000 in business this week - preferably by the end of the day tomorrow - so I totally get the whole Monday thing."

By now he was kind of laughing at me, and I have to admit, it did seem kind of funny. Because once I dropped the kids off at camp in the morning, I knew I could spend the day doing whatever I wanted. Sure, it would probably be getting groceries (without kids!) or doing laundry (while watching Scandal?!) but compared to what he was going to have to do all day? No contest.

Early morning meeting.

Although, if you asked Bill, he just might say he prefers his job over mine. I hope so. Because we should all be so lucky to spend our days doing things we enjoy. (And there's no way I want to switch jobs any time soon...)

1 comment:

Amanda Conley said...

We have paper, but no ink. If all of us moms worked together we would always have everything we needed! Ha!
I love your lake beach picture. 😃