I don't know much about football. But I know each team has a "bye week", when they don't have to play. (...Right??). A break from the tight pants, and shoulder pads, and fanny slapping, and running and charging and tackling, and all that other stuff they do in football. Jim would be so proud!
As a woman...as a person...as me...I have bye week remorse. If I allow something to become marginal in my life, even for a week; i.e. my house, my job, my friends, my church, my diet, my budget (hello, my name is Maureen, and I am an online shopaholic...)....God forbid my child...it eats at me for days until I somehow manage to rectify my slacker-like behavior . The guilt that already accompanies being a 'working Mom' (a phrase I've always considered redundant), is heaped onto my plate in extra large spoonfuls when I can't get the dishes done, or the floors mopped when I want to, or make a full home cooked meal, get the laundry done EVER, make sure my windows are cleaned, and my walkway swept. The list goes on.
Last night, though, when I got home from a much needed gab-sesh at one of my best friend's houses, something occurred to me. I was brushing my teeth, reflecting on the splatter of toothpaste framing my face, and how I really needed to "clean this bathroom", when suddenly I realized; the only person critiquing me, was me! Michael, I'm SURE, doesn't care in the least bit if his mirror is spic and span. In fact sometimes I think the little culprit plays 'toothbrush slingshot' to see just how speckled it can get. Jim doesn't care if his jeans are ironed (go ahead...make fun of me...), or if I manage to be one of those crafty-muffin baking-spotless house-kind of wives. Jim (and I feel confident speaking for him) fell in love with me....not who he wants me to be. He fell in love with me as a Mom, as a writer, as a thinker, as a believer. And I fell in love with him as a man, and a friend, a wonderful listener, a person who can make me laugh, and a generous and loving soul. My friends, who have seen me (and my house) at my best and most definitely my worst, haven't stopped being my friends. My family still claims me, even though I'm terrible at keeping plants alive, and I have to do a big, panicked, "clean everything at once!!!!" day before they visit. With all that love and acceptance, what's the big idea, Mo!? Or so I said last night to my reflection.
My answer today? I get a bye. Just like Tom Brady and the rest of them (I know Ben Rothlesssomething is who I should write, in honor of Jim and his Steelers, but his name is too tough to spell), I am allowed to take a break. If my sink has toothpaste in it; oh well! If there are dishes which haven't been put away; oh well! If my vegetables are frozen and my kid's lunch doesn't include cookies from scratch; spare me the lecture. He's smart, he's healthy, he's fabulous.
And we get by just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment