Recently, I became part of the full-time workforce...underemployed if you consider the financial needs of a large family and overemployed if you ever take a glimpse at all of the things I have to do in a single day. Now, I have to tell you, that while my paying job is far from the dream career I had planned for myself (how many of us get that?!) I am not afraid of work. I tackle my tasks at high speed with a good attitude. This is true for my home life as well.
But, here's the thing: at my paying job, my coworkers and I are all striving together to get things done. We understand that each of our time is interconnected and dependant on what others do. But at home? Well, this is the place where "work" has become a bad word. The word "chores" is spoken like "C*%$@!" and everyone has a list of more important uses of their time.
I honestly don't recognize my daughters right now. Before I went away for pay to keep a roof over their heads, we cooked, cleaned, and danced together daily. They would see an overfull garbage can and take it out. Work was just something we did. Suddenly, it's an option -- a stinky option, the one you don't want to get on your skin. I don't get it.
I made the decision to not argue with my family about chores. We have precious little time together as it is now. The little girls who used to be so helpful have completely disappeared and become self-absorbed, obnoxious, and, well, not my favorite people. My husband, meanwhile, is back to working the hours he always has and calling it enough. He's SO tired, you know? I mean, he IS working "full time" AND going to school "part time." Give the guy a break right?
All I have to say is F&*% this S*%$!!! Yep. That's how I really feel.
Now, I'm going to go make dinner, wash dishes, fold laundry, bake a fruit pizza for the work party tomorrow, tutor people with their math homework, sweep the floor, wash the counters, put the shoes in the closets where they belong, pick up the frontroom, vacuum the floors, organize the mail, walk the dog, and nod my head to all of the "I love yous" I hear before bedtime.
Have you ever read the Five Love Languages? Mine is service and I'm beginning to look elsewhere.
But, here's the thing: at my paying job, my coworkers and I are all striving together to get things done. We understand that each of our time is interconnected and dependant on what others do. But at home? Well, this is the place where "work" has become a bad word. The word "chores" is spoken like "C*%$@!" and everyone has a list of more important uses of their time.
I honestly don't recognize my daughters right now. Before I went away for pay to keep a roof over their heads, we cooked, cleaned, and danced together daily. They would see an overfull garbage can and take it out. Work was just something we did. Suddenly, it's an option -- a stinky option, the one you don't want to get on your skin. I don't get it.
I made the decision to not argue with my family about chores. We have precious little time together as it is now. The little girls who used to be so helpful have completely disappeared and become self-absorbed, obnoxious, and, well, not my favorite people. My husband, meanwhile, is back to working the hours he always has and calling it enough. He's SO tired, you know? I mean, he IS working "full time" AND going to school "part time." Give the guy a break right?
All I have to say is F&*% this S*%$!!! Yep. That's how I really feel.
Now, I'm going to go make dinner, wash dishes, fold laundry, bake a fruit pizza for the work party tomorrow, tutor people with their math homework, sweep the floor, wash the counters, put the shoes in the closets where they belong, pick up the frontroom, vacuum the floors, organize the mail, walk the dog, and nod my head to all of the "I love yous" I hear before bedtime.
Have you ever read the Five Love Languages? Mine is service and I'm beginning to look elsewhere.
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