About six weeks ago I had reconstructive surgery on my foot. This meant a minimum of six weeks of being off my foot and at the mercy of those willing to care for a less-than-patient patient.
It was both a blessing and a curse to be forced to step back and let someone else do those things that I firmly believed could only be done correctly by me. (My husband will be the first to say we do it VERY differently, so this statement will not surprise him in any way.)
I learned:
- First and foremost, I don't like imposed growth opportunities. I am not patient with slowing down and letting go. In fact, some would say, I can't.
- My daughter who cannot hear me ask her to pick up her laundry and put it in the hamper, can hear me mutter under my breath and will repeat any criticism to the party in question. Oops! Another learning opportunity for me.
- "Making breakfast" is a very different thing to a Dad than to a Mom. But, yes, in fact one can survive on toast and banana for six weeks.
- If my husband had to pack a suitcase for me without my assistance, he really has no idea what I wear on a daily basis. This led to a few memorable fashion ensembles being presented to me without the slightest indication that they were jokes.
- My daughter will auto-correct daddy's fashion faux pas approximately 85% percent of the time. This is not a bad percentage give her age. However, we did learn the phrase "fashion refugee" during the time frame of Mama's recuperation. (Refer to entry #2).
Perhaps one of the kindest and most humble moments in the six weeks came when my family got together to celebrate my mother's birthday. I overheard my husband tell my father "I don't know how she gets it all done. I didn't realize how much she does in a day."
Our household is not completely traditional in its role assignment, but 90% of the time, if the lawn is mowed or the garbage taken out, it is done by the Mr., and 90% of the laundry, food prep, daily cleaning is done by Mama. I'm sure there are millions of small details that go unnoticed by me in the chores Mr. takes on, and perhaps someday I will have the chance to be humbled by taking on his role as well. Still, it was a silver lining in this LONG recovery to know that he is far less likely to ask "What did you do all day?" when he comes home and finds the house in shambles and the kids dirty and clamoring for a sandwich and Mama having a bottle glass of wine and trying not to cry as dinner is still, STILL, not done!
Things my husband has learned:
- Kids will not tell you they are hungry until it is too late to feed them peacefully. They are around the bend by the time they tell you they are hungry.
- Laundry piles up faster than you think it will. Stay ahead of it. You can't always wait until there is a full washer load of one color. Sometimes a small/partial load, while not eco-friendly, will guarantee that the beloved blanket is dry by bedtime.
- In relation to the above, if you are line-drying the blanket, HIDE IT BETWEEN OTHER CLOTHING, or buy earplugs and sedatives. Give yourself time to guarantee that the little bugger is dry before naptime. Trust me on this one.
- Do not start a non-negotiable request with "Do you want to...?" You're sunk, pal. Anything you say afterward is just more quicksand.
- We will be protecting Mama's foot like it is the Hope freakin' diamond. There is no way any of us will survive another six-week stretch.
