Perspective

Perspective in an INvaluable thing.

I was blessed enough to have the days off between December 23^rd and January 3^rd.  During this time, I tried my best to give my wife some much needed time to herself.  After all, momma never gets a set holiday schedule, and even when she’s on vacation, part of her job is still with her.

It was during this interval of time that I got a healthy dose of the day-to-day dealings around our house.  There are many of her actions that, on occasion, I’ve been tempted to complain about.  But, now…let’s just say that they make a little more sense to me.

First off, I became painfully aware of how miserable three cooped up children can make a parent, especially a child that wants to be ‘on the go’ as much as Griffin.  I quickly began to tire of our daily, morning conversation:

Griffin:  Where are we going today?

Me:  Nowhere.

Griffin:  Can we go to Mammy’s house?

Me:  No, she’s just had surgery.

Griffin:  Can we go to Uncle Russ’ house?

Me:  No, Miranda is sick.

Griffin:  Can we go to Aunt Karen’s house?

Me:  Griffin, there’s nothing for you to do over there.  No.

Griffin:  Well, where can we go, then?

Me:  Nowhere.

Griffin:  But I…

Me:  CHILD.  Stop asking me that question.  I’ve already given you my answer!

Now, before you begin to think that I was a complete Ogre to my children, I did spend a lot of time playing with them.  So much so that they came to believe I was placed in this house solely to entertain them.  This generally ended with me passed out on the bed or floor (whatever was closer) by about 10 am.  I learned very quickly that a father who passes out on the floor leaves himself dangerously open to three year-old body slams.  It’s a bad way to wake up.  Enough said.

With as much time as it takes to keep the kids from devouring the house, bit-by-bit, I’m completely amazed at how my wife has time to get anything done at all.  The laundry itself is a monumental task.  With five people now contributing to the dirty clothes bin, it’s a job that never ends.  I used to enjoy folding clothes.  That was long ago, before my eldest son came to believe he needed a new pair of socks each time he left the bedroom.

Aside from laundry, there’s the thankless task of cooking meals.  Left to themselves, my children would subsist on a steady diet of cheese & crackers or Eggo waffles.  As a parent, this is simultaneously horrifying yet satisfying.  There’s not a whole lot of nutritional value in the aforementioned foods, but after wrenching yourself off the floor, nursing a hurt back that the three-year-old just powerslammed, it’s about all you care to muster the energy to make.

At some point during the whole ordeal, I realized I forgot what the inside of our shower looked like.  Between keeping up with the children, cleaning what absolutely had to be done, and putting together meals for the ungrateful urchins, I could easily breeze through my day without ever taking time for a shower.  Usually, the thought hit me around 9pm when there didn’t seem like much of a point in spending the extra energy.

The perspective was definitely refreshing.  What does it mean in the long-term?  Will Tamara and I exist in complete harmony now that I understand what she goes through?  Meh…probably not.  Like all things, unless you experience it on a constant basis, you tend to forget what you’ve learned.  But for now, I can take comfort in the fact that I have just a little more empathy than normal.  And that’s a good thing.