It was funny. It was hard. It started out at the very beginning of the day. My children came to me lost. "What are we wearing today?!?". I replied, "Don't know...go figure it out". Little feet descended down the steps. A moment later..."It's picture day"....yep...good luck with that. This continued with a series of summer type dresses that simply could not be worn while it was still in the 30's. I stayed in bed watching the contents of a tired little dvr. They managed though and she even helped the little guy out with finding HIS outfit for the day.
Lunch time rolled around. "Mom, I'm hungry". My response was a disinterested...."Yeah, I'm starving but I'm busy making myself lunch". He made his own sandwich complete with peanut butter, a touch of Nutella and sliced bananas. He even put everything away.
We did run errands. I battled with this. But I came to the conclusion that I could be selfish again. I took my pants to the tailor and did a bank deposit but not before I got myself a large yummy coffee. I then went to CVS to pick up yet another prescription for Emily's nebulizer...because hey, a kid needs to breathe. I also got the dog food because she can't drive yet. Otherwise, there were no fun little trinkets purchased from machines full of plastic bubbles or any other such thing.
We had a small window of time before I needed to pick up my kid from school. I walked past the vacuum and its twisted cord. I breezed by the mess of a kitchen. I paused by the sink and stared at the dishes that were crusting over with traces of soup. I sat amidst the toys and books and dog treats in the living room and sat on the couch with a book.
We headed to a previously scheduled play date. The kids ran around and screamed while two moms sat there discussing the strike. This was not the first frustrated mother I had talked to that day. There are a series of us. After a short time we came home. My Dad had gone out and purchased a pizza since I had mentioned that I was not cooking. When it came time to eat. I got myself a napkin, plate, drink and a slice and sat down. At this point it was almost comical. I am the girl who serves everyone first. Before me. Always. I sometimes eat standing up in the kitchen depending on the meal. So this just made everyone give me a sideways dog look. I didn't touch the dishes.
I ordered the kids to get ready for bed...hours before we normally would have. No story. No giggles. No movies. I told them that the weekend would be chores and lists. I also told them that if they continued to be jerks to one another I would have to return one of them. Only one could stay. That made me smile in my dark little striking soul.
It hurt me to be this way. I know some of us had parents where the house and chores came before games of Candy Land on the floor and giggles. My house is not like this. I make mornings magical. I make all meals an event. I make the mundane sweet. In real life we do have to do certain things though. We need clean clothes. We need healthy snacks. We need to brush our teeth and practice our piano. I was in the type of mood to organize and tidy and clean so it hurt me to do nothing. I am not that sort of house either. I need it to have a certain level of structure. I guess I'm somewhere in the middle. I tried and I didn't realize that I have succeeded. We have our to do lists but we also have our Monopoly sessions.
The other moms mentioned that they clean for themselves. So funny...I guess I do too. One even reminded me that the things we are bothered by are probably not even noticed by the household members. Another reminded me that she likes things done a certain way and to the level of expertise that she does it. I get that...it sounds familiar. I realized the strike wasn't about the DOING of the chores. I mean a little bit here and there, sure. People do get comfortable and will do less and less if you allow it. But it was really just about the thanks in a thankless, never ending, no paycheck kind of position. If it takes a little strike every here and there to remind the world that we do so much then so be it. The laundry piles are still in the bathroom but I can't have a house without giggles. It's that simple. The "power" I needed to have the fortitude to strike...well....I think I will use it elsewhere. I will use it to continue to put myself on the list. I will use it to do what needs to be done and not feel like the bad guy when it happens. I will use it to give myself permission to not be invisible or taken for granted. I will remind others that expectation does NOT replace appreciation. Not in my house. But I like my constant changing chore charts, to do lists and structures that allow us the safety, health and time to do all of the other wonderful things that we do. I will put down my sign and tuck it into the closet somewhere in the hopes that someday the respect and gratitude that a devoted person deserves allows her the chance to burn it. Until then, I will get it out when needed. Somewhere in the strike they are reminded how lucky they are to have me and I remember that the blessings that they are is why I do it all in the first place.
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