There are so many days that leave me feeling as if I can’t make it another five minutes without losing my shit unless my husband walks through the door RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT. At 1:00 in the afternoon, most days. But I’ve been changing some of my ideals, expectations, and thoughts, so that I am not just “getting through” but actually living and being present in my life. This has provided us a more peaceful environment, a calmer attitude, and happier people.
There are times when I think I have it more difficult than my husband. After all, I’m responsible for human beings. Three living people, depending on me, day in and day out. On top of caring for them, there are the other things to tend to and accomplish. Again, I’m changing my views on the things I “have to” do and realizing there are a lot of things I’m not obligated to do at any point throughout the day but put pressure on myself to think I need to. Like laundry, for instance. It’s clean, it’s dry, and it will be worn again. It doesn’t necessarily need to be folded if I’d rather sit on the couch and watch a movie with the people I love.
My husband is a hard worker. He is a self employed plumbing and heating contractor. He works with his entire body every single day. As soon as he walks in the door at the end of a work day, he’s in dad mode. The days he is home I’m usually running errands or doing something to get out of the house or we are doing something as a family. He doesn’t have much time for him.
I am sitting here, all of my muscles aching. I’m TIRED. Yesterday, I went to work with Paul. I left our children for the longest time EVER and I was a bit anxious. He had a lot of tubing for radiant heat to install and a quickly approaching deadline so I offered to help.
I have a new appreciation for what that man does every day to provide for us. Fuck, man, I only worked about four and a half hours. He does this every day. I can barely walk. My legs are so sore I can’t even straighten them fully, my ass hurts so badly sitting on the couch hurts, and I have a hand covered in blisters.
I think it’s safe to say I know who works harder. It wasn’t a competition but my days were feeling so challenging. My days don’t involve physical labor and doing math all day to plan things out, measuring to center things in a newly constructed space to make sure it will be visually appealing. It doesn’t involve the stress of deadlines. I don’t have customers to bill or tools to cart around. And I certainly don’t have a partner on the other end saying, “You don’t know what this is like! You don’t know how HARD this is!”
Because even on his hardest days he isn’t complaining. He’s listening to me complain. His mind and body work hard all day. He doesn’t come home, sit on the couch, and crack open a beer. He does what ever it is I need him to do while spending time with our children.
Yesterday was just what I needed to remember how much I truly love him, appreciate him, and how dedicated and loving he is. I’m so proud to call him my husband.
I hope to hang on to these feelings for a long while. If they begin to fade, it may be time for another reminder. My muscles should feel better by then.