I have one job on this ship

My husband and I are movie quoters. We once decided that even though we have no real desire to be on a reality TV show, we wouldn't ever be accepted because so much of what we say comes from somewhere else. One of my particular favorite lines to use is "I have one job on this ship, it's "stupid" but I'm going to do it." It comes in quite handy anytime you got to do a job that is annoying to yourself or those around you.

That isn't to say that I truly only have one job, I know that I have many. However, months ago I hurt my foot and in an effort to "fix" it I've spend the last several weeks unable to perform most of my regular household duties. I've still been able to do some "mom" stuff, but I've needed help with cleaning, dishes, laundry, cooking, and anything else that requires standing or walking. My supercalifragilistic family has totally stepped up and helped out.

In eleven years of parenting there is a job that has always been mine. It is to clean up after a certain kind of messy smelly sick. Yep, that is my one job and up to this point I've always been able to do it. Dad helps with baths and comfort and I do the smelly bits. Last night I lay in bed unable to walk because my foot hurt so badly and Dad did my one stupid job. I'm sure he wanted to call it a lot more strongly worded things than stupid. But he didn't. He was a trooper and did the jobs of bath, comfort, and cleanup more than once. Then he got up and went to work today with an almost smile on his face (though that might have been because he was leaving to a place that will leave him little chance of cleaning up smelly messes for most of the day).

On this week after Thanksgiving I'm grateful that he was willing to do his one stupid job in order to help me when I needed it. Even though I don't like sickies I'm grateful for someone else being willing to help out with my one job, whether it is stupid or not.

Mom takes a sick day, the household tries to adjust

Many months ago (clear back during the second week of school) I attempted to start an exercise regime. Before summer made exercise scheduling difficult, I'd been regularly moving my body 4-5 times a week. I assumed that I'd easily go back to the same schedule now that I'd figured out some sort of routine for the new school year. Well you know what assuming will get you . . . . . . absolutely nothing.

 

On the day I started my new "routine" I injured my ankle. It was a common occurrence and I just thought I'd work around it. After 2 months of only being able to wear one pair of shoes and being unable to walk on any uneven surface or down stairs without pain I finally made myself visit the doctor. The very nice doctor said, yep you hurt yourself. It wasn't just a sprain. I was going to spend the next several days/weeks with my ankle wrapped and in a boot and off my foot as much as possible. I'd already been "off my foot as much as possible" for two months since doing much of anything hurt, so that meant to rest it I was going to be completely off my foot.

 

My sweet husband agreed and banished me to the couch for the remainder of the week. With Mom on the couch/in bed/taking muscle relaxers for the week that meant Dad was going to be in charge. So he did the dishes, cooked dinner, cleaned the house, and did the laundry. He was totally He-Man and She-Ra all week. My kids had stepped up and helped when they could, but by the end of the week the entire family was ready for Mom to get back to work.

 

#1 had a cold and the meanest mom on the block wouldn't let him stay home/come home from school. #3 also had the sniffles. #4 had a big case of grumpy whiny pants. Luckily #2 stayed her same pleasant self. Unfortunately by yesterday Dad had caught the cold from #1 and was down for the count. As we lay in bed that morning, I put my hands on Dad's face and said, "You must get better TODAY, the house can not take both of us out of commission."

 

It was during this state of desperation that a miracle occurred. Even though #1 was still fighting his cold, he put on all of his snow clothes himself and shoveled the driveway. Occasionally the kids have offered to "help" when I attempted this same task. Their help usually involved tromping through the fresh driveway/sidewalk snow and making a generally mess of things. Then ten minutes after I've just spent 45 getting them all ready, they are done and want hot chocolate. #1 worked on the driveway for almost an hour. He did an impeccable job and even put down ice melt on the extra frozen places. He didn't even ask for extra allowance (well until I cried because he was being such a good kid - and then he was just being smart).

 

I'm so happy that we reached a point I didn't think existed. Mom can be done for the count and the household still runs. There was food to eat, clean dishes to eat on, clean clothes to wear, and a shoveled driveway. I don't think I could ask for anything more.

Turning Mom mode off for a while

 

We've been living in a constant high stress zone at our house for the last couple of weeks. Between a birthday, sewing Halloween costumes, unexpected tragic funerals, and school stuff, work stuff, and church stuff I was pushed to my limit. Mixed up in all the stress I was suffering from "always the mom syndrome." You may suffer from this yourself sometimes. It mostly happens to me when I'm not managing my stress very well. I become completely unable to turn off mom mode.

 

It starts simple, you might be at a store and maybe see someone with kids in line. Then while the adult is paying for their items you might play a little game of peek-a-boo with their baby. See easy stuff. It isn't too dangerous. But then you have a friend who needs help sewing a Halloween costume, again no big deal. But you realize by the end of the week you've started to talk to this adult like some of your sewing students and you keep saying stuff like "Or you can do that any way you want." (After giving super specific instructions like you give the 6 yr olds you teach to sew).

 

Then you might find yourself helping serve lunch for family after a funeral and bossing everyone around like you're in charge (when you clearly aren't). And from there you realize you've started to ask the bagger at the grocery store to do this in a super specific way. And you're asking your husband if he needs a kiss when he hurts himself.

 

Maybe you've never found yourself in this situation. Maybe you're completely able to turn off mom mode and don't ask your neighbors if they need to visit the bathroom before getting in the car. But I do. I get stuck in the place where I feel like I'm telling everyone want to do, and I'm making all the phone calls, and arranging things, and telling random kids at the playground to stop it, and you get the general idea. I was in need of a serious enforced mom break.

 

Luckily this past weekend I got one. Our Relief Society President had the most brilliant idea of a Relief Society Retreat. And her sister graciously allowed us to use her home.

 

See doesn't it look perfect?

 

 

A bunch of ladies from our ward got to run away for the night. We ate yummy food, and chatted, and laughed, and cried a little. I sat and listened and didn't tell anybody what to do. Even though we got very little sleep, I came home refreshed and feeling a little bit more like Liz and a little less like every one's mom. It was a blessing, a gift for my soul during this season of crazy. I love being a mom. It was all I really wanted to be when I grew up. I'm grateful for my kids everyday. I'm also grateful for those times when Dad is in charge and I get to just be Liz for a little while.