Manly Work

Every relationship has a distinct dynamic. Adam and I had very defined roles for each other, expectations, I suppose. We planned for him to be the primary money maker. He was relieved that I became a nurse and understood not only the dynamics of hospital life, but also since I had watched--both behind the scenes and not so behind the scenes--what it meant to go through the rigors of med school and residency. I understood what that really meant to him personally. I remember a specific conversation we had at the dinner table one night not long before his passing and him mentioning how glad he was that I became a nurse. I understood the attitude towards residents and med students, I "got it" on a different level than other doctors' wives. He was grateful for that and so was I. It definitely bonded us.

That said, we also had very distinct household roles and responsibilities. They changed over time and with the changes and additions of children in our family. I knew what worked, what didn't, and how to push his buttons. He did the same. He took out the trash. He would clean toilets from time to time when I couldn't bear to look at boy spray. He would clean the basement when it needed straightening up for guests or spring cleaning. But his big job after we bought our house...was the yard. I always planted a few flowers in the spring time after the blooms from our daffodils and tulips had bloomed and gone. His main job was the lawn. He mowed. Always. I wasn't allowed. And I totally didn't care--I liked that it was his job. And I think he felt important and needed in his job--something that we each need in marriage, to feel needed and appreciated.

Well, the day finally came. After sweet friends and neighbors mowed our lawn all last fall, it was finally time this past week to mow again. It was time for me to attempt. After a million pulls, trying desperately to get the dumb mower to start, I finally got it going and mow I did. Not perfect (the dividing lines between my neighbors properties is well, kinda curvy), but I'm sure I will get plenty of practice! And you know, it feels good. I'm well aware that the novelty will likely wear off, but for now it is fine. The biggest challenge is trying to find a time to mow when Carson is down for a nap and Spencer is in eye shot...so as to keep them safe throughout my jaunt up and down my hilly backyard.

While I do believe there is definite purpose behind genders and the roles as mother, father and spouses, I do feel like this has been a very fulfilling week, learning that I can do tough things, I have the capacity. Would I rather not do them? Absolutely. Do I hope that I won't always have to do these tasks? Absolutely. Would Adam be rolling his eyes and mocking my lawn mowing job if he could? Absolutely. But it's ok. I'm managing fine for now.

This all said, things are seemingly more difficult these days. Single parenting is growing old(er), I'm lonelier,I'm moodier, I'm less patient, I'm sure I say a lot of crazy things to people, I crave my husband more, I'm as exhausted as ever, I'm all over the place, I'm less logical, less rational, more emotional. I'm a "normal" grieving wife. And I'm still ticked off as ever. And equally just as heartbroken. It is all uncharted territory.

I went on a field trip with Justin to watch "African Cats" this week. I was amazed at the realization that the idea of single parenting is so prevalent in many species. I've never thought of it in quite this way before, until I watched a cheetah caring for her cubs. Carson snuggled up to me tonight and rubbed his head under my chin and into my chest, just like those little cheetah cubs did in the movie. I learned some interesting insight on animals, but also on human behavior from watching that movie. Even the movie made me cry. I hate that. Not that I hate emotion, but crying drives me crazy, it makes others uncomfortable, but mostly--it just gives me a headache.

Another week--another month-- is upon me. Time marches on. What am I doing with my time? It's precious!! That is what I remind myself of a lot. We just never know how many days we have, how many hours are numbered for each of us. Some days I feel so unproductive. And then I remind myself of a truth that I've always known--I'm doing the most important thing I can possibly do for my kids at this point in time, I feel that truth deep down inside of me. No I'm not teaching my children high school math at age 3, but I'm trying to teach them how to be good children, good men, to love God, their family, fellow men, their country, and to learn what is needed for them to learn. No amount of money can replace this precious time I have with them. Nursing will (have to) happen soon enough, but I'm trying to soak up kid time now. And teach myself manly household jobs. A little at a time anyway! I can chalk up mowing, water filter changing, and cabinet hardware changes on my manly job list of accomplishments this week. Yay me!