My husband Craig was home on vacation during my last week of pregnancy (and beyond). Craig is not the sort of fellow to sit and relax and enjoy our last few days before a newborn is thrown into the mix of our already very busy family. So he took on projects. Organizing the pantry. Creating a beautiful spice drawer using mason jars. Revamping meal planning in our house.
I jokingly texted my mother and said that I should stay pregnant for another week just to see what else Craig can get done.
A few finger swipes later I texted a friend saying that with all of this “man nesting” Craig is doing I feel like a lazy ass.
Really it’s hard to see someone else come into my domain and do a better job of running it than I do. It’s hard to feel grateful that these chores are getting done and not throw a pity party because I obviously suck at being a stay at home mom.
Thankfully I have friends who say loving things like you are the creative and Craig is the organizer.
This was an eye opener. Don’t get me wrong. Craig and I are both creative in our own ways. I’m more artsy and he’s more tech geek. When it comes to having gifts ready for the holidays I am totally organized in that department. Cupboards and meal planning systems are apparently Craig’s area of expertise.
I’ve noticed that when a husband steps into a role that is traditionally held by the wife he is praised to the high heavens. He’s deemed a hero and the wife is labelled lucky. (Side note: My friend Shawna has an excellent post about this When They Tell Me I’m Lucky To Have Him )
I think a lot of times I interpret “lucky” as not as competent or lazy ass.
Just as any comparison will do, comparing myself to my husband steals my joy. And it steals his. Instead of seeing the things he has done for our family as loving and helpful, I seethe with resentment. I can not be grateful because I am angry and full of self shame.
But I am learning.
Craig and I are good together.
Who give’s a crap what the rest of the world has to say about how our marriage runs.
Craig and I are good together.
I’ve written it over and over again in my morning pages… and I think I’m starting to believe it. Changing my thinking after more than 13 years of believing that I am living with super dad and husband extraordinaire and that I could never measure up next to him, is damn hard.
Figuring out what value I have to add to my family is a freaking struggle. But it’s necessary. I am needed. I am more than just a set of boobs to feed a crying baby (although the girls are pretty treasured for their super powers these days).
I am a soft place to land for a tired five year old.
I am the baker of cookies and bread.
I am willing to pull out paint and crayons and markers and glue… sometimes even glitter… and create with my little people.
I am here. I am present. I am putting the effort in to strong relationships with these five people closest to me.
Craig and I are good together, but the 6 of us are an incredible, intricate, masterpiece.
Being jealous of what Craig does distracts from our masterpiece. It destroys it. Becacuse I know this now, I need to keep training my head and heart to remember: