I have often watched shows over the years, that depict the
lovely and calm wife and mother in her pumps welcoming her husband home, the
house tidy, the kids clean and quiet, the dinner offering its enticing aroma
from the kitchen. These shows I naturally laughed at as being completely
unrealistic and exactly what they are: fiction.
Well, today the stars aligned
to create just such an illusion as my husband walked through the front door.
The baby was in bed for the night, the kids were quietly reading in their beds,
awaiting, with good behavior, the arrival of their dad and his good night
kisses. I had hurriedly vacuumed the floor, picked up the living area and had
time to load all the days dishes into the dishwasher. The counters were clean
and I was calmly stirring an aromatic dinner as I greeted my husband with a
smile.
Why didn’t I run to
the bedroom and put on some high heels? I guess my husband would have thought I
had finally gone off the rails if I had taken it to that far-fetched degree. He
knows high heels and I are not best friends, maybe just friends or
acquaintances really but definitely not kindred spirits.
So my husband arrives to a calm and peaceful home, with a
smiling wife and freshly bathed kids in their adorable little matching Woody
pajama’s. He goes in to tuck the kids in and I marvel at the unrealistic feel
of the moment. What the heck happened that created this idealistic occurrence
in my typically loud and crazy domestic life. I pondered. I reflected. I questioned.
Finally I decided that these moments happen throughout the
day. It just isn’t frequent that my husband comes home at just the perfect time
to receive the benefit of said moment. Then I realized something else, the calm was in my soul,
I didn’t need to dramatize the affect that the constant barrage of needs and
crisis had taken on my psyche. I didn’t need sympathy.
Wow! Am I really that needy that I lean into the days
intensity when my husband gets home so he can give my some much desired
encouragement and, yes, validation? I hope not too often. Chris and I
have our moments of playing “who had the hardest day” under the surface of
telling each other about our day. Wouldn’t my husband be much more impressed if
I was always this put together? Perhaps.
Life as a stay at home mom is an adventure, to say the
least. I don’t do what I do for a paycheck. I do what I do for a family. Yes it
feels nice to hear “you’re doing a good job” and yes, I wish I heard it more
but not at the expense of our sweet comfy home feel. I think I will try and act
“put together” a little more often. No one has to know I didn’t brush my hair
today or that my make-up was applied while sitting at traffic lights and
singing “It’s a small world after all”.
There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging the beauty in the
ideals, in the Donna Reed myth so to speak. And really, apart from the dress
and the hair and the heels, it’s the smile and the arms that matter. The kisses
and the energy that say “home is wonderful”.
It is important to embrace the moments where the house and the kids and the
dinner are a little topsy turvy and then the counter part moments where
everything looks just picture perfect
(though those moments may be fleeting),
Because really….family life isn’t without fault or difficulty, but it
is perfect.
Had a feeling you were blogging. Charming post. God bless family. I love those cute kids
ReplyDelete