There is laundry, dishes, lunches to be packed, dog poop to be disposed of, negotiating with the contractor, searching for fixtures, making up beds, vacuuming, sweeping, tidying... before noon. When Tim gets home there is endless schlepping, fetching clothes, water, wine. Put the children to bed. Feed the dog. Scoop the cat litter. Take out the trash. Deep breath.
With Tim's foot broken, the chores around the house are endless. And my patience is limited. I regret getting the dog. I second guess adding on to the house. I rethink life in general.
Gran is dying. The cat has chased the dog under the chair in the kitchen. The dog yelps in distress. Tim asks if everything is alright.
How is it that I am the one in charge? I don't want all of this responsibility.
Well, too bad. I signed up for this eleven years ago. I fully disclosed my illness to Tim and he chose me anyway. He lived through two pregnancies marred by my suicidal rants. He pieced me back together when Sandy's death shattered me. He supported me when I told him that I could no longer work outside the home.
I hate when people say "Marriage is hard work". It shouldn't be... marriage should be the toughest job but the one you love to face every day... not "hard work" but putting in long hours and dedication. Don't liken marriage to a sentence. Don't condemn yourself. Marriage is a blessing; life is the work.
I probably won't be pleasant the next 12 weeks or so. I will be short tempered and frequently have bouts of "Why me?" but in truth, few people have it this good. I am temporarily inconvenienced but I am forever blessed with marriage.
1 comment:
I can totally relate Fannie. Paul had hip surgery this winter and was non weight bearing for 8 weeks. I felt so overwhelmed by all the responsibility. You will make it through this time. But, you may never look back on it and laugh. I swear I still have not caught up on my sleep since Paul had his surgery.
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