The Plowhorse

Giving Thanks in a Thankless Moment

Photo Credit: http://sillyjillybean.wordpress.com

Sometimes it seems as if my job is more work and less reward. I find myself forgetting the "carefree" days of singlehood and newly-weddedness and looking forward to getting a break. Except this is not the corporate world, and I don't get scheduled breaks. I get momentary lapses of activity. This is new for me. It makes me grouchy. It makes me mopey. It makes me grumble. When I grumble, things go awry. But as my baby girl grows up and I begin to get more sleep, I find my common sense slowly taking over again.

You know that saying, "When Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy"? I used to think this meant that if I didn't do my chores, my mom would raise cane until she got what she wanted. Now maybe there are mothers who can do this and get very positive results. But my sassy Italian temperament leaves me little room for pitching fits. In an effort to keep myself from expecting too much, I pulled a U-ey, flew through the intersection, and settled down in the other "wrong side of town", where I assured myself that I was making the best choice by expecting too little. In losing the "Perfectionist Spirit", I also started to let important things go: groceries, cleaning, cooking, time with people. This attitude prevailed through my roaring twenties and continued for over a year after my marriage. I told myself and my husband things like "I don't need to sweep/mop the floor. It's not like we eat off it." Or, "I didn't make it to the grocery today. I lost track of time." I even blamed it on a lack of society. I come from a large family, where chores are accomplished en masse and chatter never ceases. "How did isolated pioneer women survive?" I wondered. "They had purpose: a better life for their family. Where is my purpose?"

Thus I spent many days moping, Facebooking, Pinning, and eating while I waited for something to happen that would distract me from my deep boredom. Working a full-time job didn't solve the problem. Neither did preparing for my baby's arrival. Sure, I had fits of inspiration and bursts of energy, but when they were gone I was back on the couch, plugged in and maintaining what I considered to be my role in a situation that was, surely, not my fault. Usually, I pulled myself together in time to fix dinner before my husband got home. Poor guy. He is a detail-oriented person, and I think he always knew when I had been lazy. He would let the chores go only so long to see if I would step up, and then he would just quietly and happily volunteer himself for the job. Let the guilt commence!

Early one recent morning, I finished nursing my colicky baby and laid her in the Pack'n'Play for a nap. I then did several odds and ends job around the house: got dressed, ate breakfast, loaded the dishwasher, etc. I had just run a sinkful of soapy water to tackle the dirty pots that had piled up over, oh, the last couple of days (!!!) when my baby began to fuss. Feeling disappointed that my grand plan for the morning was hanging in the balance, wrapped her up and sat down to rock her. All the while I was thinking my goal was to get her back to sleep so I could get back to work. As her fuzzy head nuzzled into the crook of my arm and her little fist closed around my finger, I had an epiphany.

It's not the child's job to keep Mama from going loco. It's the Mama's job! In other words, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. So Mama needs to choose to be happy". My purpose in life is to be a thermostat. I was created to manage the atmosphere of my home. People need to be comfortable here, and it's hard to be comfortable when you stub your toe (so hard you tear up) on the mess your wife has made but not cleaned, go to sit down a minute, and have to move a pile of laundry to get to your favorite recliner. I am, as Danielle says in Ever After, "...born to privilege, and with that comes specific obligations." And I am so privileged and have so much to be thankful for. A sweet baby girl. An adoring husband. A sturdy, albeit not ideal, home. Food in the fridge and shoes for my feet. Cute shoes, I might add. So I wasn't unhappy because my home was dirty and there was no one to keep me company while I cleaned it. I was unhappy because I chose not to be content in my circumstances. Kettles and cauldrons, now I can't blame it on somebody else!

So now that I have suddenly gained some smarts, I have to make a resolve: to give thanks even when the situation doesn't warrant such. When the dog randomly hurts her paw and she is leaving bloody tracks EVERYWHERE, I can give thanks for a cage to confine her too and a Swiffer Wet-Jet to clean it up with. When my forgiving hubby gently razzes me for forgetting to buy bread, I can give thanks that I have the money, the car, and the fuel to make a second shopping trip with. I can also give thanks that I have a husband who will help me make my shopping list, if I would only remember to ask.

Having figured this out, it is now time to go accomplish something with a thankful heart. Such as sweep and mop my floor, which really needs it, even though we don't eat off it. Viva la Swiffer!