I’ve touched on the topic of choices before, but I have been ruminating on it again for a few days now. Last week I was in a grumbly sort of unhappy place and I didn’t like it. It’s not like I don’t have a TON to be thankful for. I definitely do and I am thankful. Yet I found myself complaining and wondering when things will change. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was just grumpy! But change is a temptress. And change for the sake of change doesn’t usually end well. Yet, I wondered.
Of course this begs the question, just what WOULD I change?
I remember sitting in a cubicle hour after hour and day after day, just longing for a time when I could care for a child and spend my days planning, cooking, cleaning and being a home manager. For me, it was a promotion to be able to stay at home full-time with our son. But now that the luster of change has worn off, I am left wondering if I am worthy of this job.
Can I keep up on the hard days?
I think this goes back to getting paid and how the lack of a steady income can really mess with a person’s perception of value. It has totally effed with mine. And when I hit a rough patch it really helps to remember that I chose these dishes, and those poopy diapers, and that dirty laundry over the promise of more money, a career, and a commute.
I chose it because it pays with something much more valuable than dollars. And on the hard days, I need to remember these things.
When I do the dishes, I get paid with the knowledge that I fed and provided for my family. I planned the meals and did the shopping and chose the ingredients. I get paid with the conversation and giggles around the table that we shared during our family dinners each night. Those dishes earned this bath. They gave to me and now it’s my turn to get them back in rotation so they can keep on giving.
When I change the diapers I am paid with the satisfaction that I am a mother. A Mother! A mother to an amazing person who astonishes me daily with his ability and desire to learn, laugh, and love. I can know that he is provided for. And I do know because my kid can POOP. I can hold my breath and then smile when we sing “all clean all dry” and get back to the business of playing.
When I wash our clothes I am paid with the memories of what fun we had last week. Grass stains represent a good time spent outside and the sweaty gym clothes mean that I am finally learning to take care of my body. I can be thankful that my husband needs clean clothes each day so he can continue to support our choice for me to stay at home with Oscar. I love washing our clothes all together, Papa, Mama and Baby bear. All mine.
I love the smell of clean and the way I feel when I accomplish these things. I am here because I choose to be.
So what would I change?
My only conclusion is my attitude.