Every day of the week I juggle the constantly rotating job descriptions of mother, wife, business owner, humanitarian and friend. I feel bad adding friend to the list but all good friendships are about giving as well as receiving. As a self employed family, we are often beholden to the various developments of our business. We are on the clock around the clock.
The operating hours of the business are comparable to the hours of wife and mother. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Mothers don’t usually get to choose when her child will decide to deeply scar her plaster walls with an ink pen, injure themselves or need an afternoon snoozle because they are having one of those days. My husband is above average in his attitude towards co parenting and management of the house. Even at above average, being my husband’s wife is not always a walk in the park and I am sure he would say the same of me. Marriage is not easy.
On Thursdays, I can usually live the dream of being “just a mother”. Please understand that while many people say that phrase with an undercurrent of disrespect and disdain. I use the phrase with utter longing. The responsibilities of a mother are the hardest to accomplish but they become like running an obstacle course in a bubble suit when you add the constant interruptions of owning a small business.
I would say that I am about 70% Mother on Thursday. I do the grocery shopping, update the calender, clean something, watch a little TV, bake and all things I consider domestic. I love taking care of my family. I love being here for my children. I love that we can play Uno and learn how not to be a sore looser. I love that they can help me count apples or avocados at the supermarket. One of my most recent favorites is watching them watch America’s Most Funniest Videos.
Domesticity, is not easy or an idyllic picture of a Norman Rockwell painting. It is watching your children grow, molding them and hoping with a sting of pain in your heart that they will choose the good. Always. The longer I am married, the longer I seek to grow our family business and no matter how many worlds I attempt to save, I am still the happiest standing in my own kitchen brewing coffee and waiting for my men to come home.
It sounds strange even to my ears. It sounds old fashioned, quaint and even a tinge sexist. I guess maybe you would have to have my men to understand.