Second in Command
So, you might have heard I've been working a lot lately. (For perspective, I'm making as much money on freelance projects in January and February as I make in six months at my regular part-time job.) And as nice as it always is to have the extra dough that comes out of working so hard (even when it means I barely see my husband-type-person for any significant amount of time), I do wish that extra dough didn't always appear mere days before I have to send it away to cover some major expense. For the past few years, for instance, we've received our tax returns the week before our semiannual property tax is due, which is great on the one hand because we can actually pay the (outrageous, soul-killing) property tax, but crappy on the other hand because it's always hard to welcome several thousand dollars into my life with such joy and then be forced to immediately relinquish it to The Man.
So, depending on how you look at it, the timing of the universe is either completely off or it's exactly right. (I tend to think the latter considering that this marks the third month in a row our mortgage statement has arrived on the 6th asking for funds due on the 1st. Perhaps I stepped into a wormhole while I wasn't paying attention, but you think I'd notice something like that...)
Anyway, I bought myself some new sweaters at TJ Maxx a few weekends ago, so my hard work hasn't gone completely unrewarded. Plus, I get to, like, keep living in my house and stuff, which is cool.
The downside to the extra work, however, has been vast and steep. I've basically been neglecting anything that doesn't have a dollar sign or a diaper attached to it, which means the last few months have been pretty lonely for poor Simon. All he got for Valentine's Day was a Redemption version of the beef stew, which ended up being a failure considering (a) he said he liked the first version better and (b) he had to quarantine himself to the dining room couch for the night lest he gas me out of bed. Romantic, eh?
What I can say, however, is that he's handled this extra stress like a champ, and although I'll admit it can be devilishly validating when everything goes to shit the minute I stop controling it, it's actually much better when I can extract myself from my usual responsibilities, let Simon take the helm, and know that everything and everyone is going to be just fine without me. The monoliths of unwashed clothing stand as proof that I'm not completely indispensable in the long run (which isn't to say that (a) Simon can't run the washing machine or (b) my greatest contribution to the family/world is my mastery of laundry), but for the most part, all of the essentials of home life are being taken care of by someone other than me, and no one has yet succumbed to death, doom, or an eternity of living in a van down by the river.
(For the record, Simon is perfectly capable of doing laundry, and believe me when I tell you that I'm saying this here without a single ounce of passive-aggressive suggestion (i.e., "You are capable of doing laundry, Simon"). The truth is that I won't let him do laundry lest he shrink/dye/bake stains onto something by accident. I'm not immune to those mistakes myself (RIP Simon's wool sweater, now fit for a doll), but what it comes down to is that the ratio of Feeling Bad about ruining something to Feeling Angry about something being ruined always points definitively toward me being the permanent Laundrymaster, and so it shall be.) (Sometimes compromise doesn't mean meeting each other halfway but knowing how best to favor each other's strengths and neuroses weaknesses.)
My point, though, is that it's been a comfort to see how well Simon can take over the things I habitually feel the need to control as if the fate of the world depended on me. In some areas, I've let myself become convinced over the years that if I don't do something myself, X, Y, and Z terrible things wil happen, all of which lead, of course, to the demise of everything and everyone I love. (It's never just housekeeping; it's LIFE and DEATH.) But Simon has been handling the bulk of the babycare, shopping, cleaning, and cooking since early January, and moreso he's been doing it without his loving and (mostly) cheerful partner, as in addition to being a bit of a Type A "control-minded" person, I'm also one of those headcases who find it nearly impossible to mentally and emotionally multitask when I have a major project on my plate. This kind of undivided attention is great when I need to sit down and compile an index in ten straight hours on a Sunday while the sun is shining (sigh), but not so great when I have months-long projects and can't really afford to cloister myself in a mountaintop hermitage until I've finished because I need to, you know, eat dinner and take a bath and sleep and stuff once in a while. This means that a lot of my interaction with Simon lately has consisted of vague head-nodding and "mm-hmm, yeah, sure, whatever"ing while my eyes are locked to the computer screen. Meanwhile, he cleans the kitchen, brings me a glass of wine, plays his guitar very quietly behind closed doors, and then eagerly submits himself to what little free time I can spend with him, which, unfortunately for him, piggy-backs onto my "reward" time, which means holding hands while watching the two-hour cringe-fest that is The Bachelor.
I'm sorry, honey. It's almost over--both my work and The Bachelor.
There is something to be said, however, about the theory behind that old trick parents have been playing on their children for generations--if you do a bad job of loading the dishwasher, you need more practice; if you do a great job, it's yours to keep--but although it's great to know that Simon can do everything, I really, truly can't wait for things to get back to normal because, honestly, the thought of washing windows or cleaning out the fridge or sorting Wombat's too-small clothes--ANYTHING but editing a book--sounds like heaven to me.
I always hated group projects in school, because guess who always ended up doing the bulk of the work? This partnership, though--this team of me and Simon--is a good one because there's more than one captain. Although the fact that there are only two of us troubles the metaphor, we're not unlike a V of geese honking north in the spring--each of us taking the lead once in a while while the other falls behind to draft or rest or gather strength (or make sure all the semicolons are properly italicized depending on context) in preparation for the next leg of the journey. In that way, being part of this team is a gift. Also, the view from back here isn't so bad either.
Spring in Oakland
You are so me in so many ways.
I so want a working-mom support group. It's hard. But I know I could not do it without my Mr. Flinger. He's picking up the kids right now so I can push through on this project (I mean, after this short blog break)
I know the "everything else gets neglected" and my blog is usually top on that list along with silliness like paying bills on time.
Gah.
But kids do that, I think. Keep life in perspective so you don't work too much and leave that husband-type-man in the wake of work.
Love Love this "each of us taking the lead once in a while while the other falls behind to draft or rest or gather strength." I have the same thing here. Love it.
Dear Leah. Ugh I don't know how you do the freelance thing, AND full time work AND baby. I struggle with the latter two at once, although this week is particularly hard with Mr Moi away.
Anyhoo, just thought I woudl comment to say I love the blossom photo, it's sooo pretty! I wish we had blooming trees where I live, but it's in the tropics so all we have are lots of frangipanis and bouganvillias. And the novelty wears off.
We've got to come up with some way to hide our spare cash from the universe . . . because you're right, it ALWAYS knows!
I've been feeling pretty stressy too lately, with work, my jewelry work and my insane, early onset nesting instinct. My husband has been a champ: helping me sort our personal filing (because no way can we bring a baby home with haphazardly filed 2002 tax returns, right?), handling everything around the house that involves smelly chemicals that I can't touch (and without being asked at that!), doing his fair share of the laundry (I'm the ruiner of things in our house) and even (this is huge) COOKING once in a while (I tend to do all of the cooking myself because a) I'm a control freak and b) I like to cook . . . sometimes, though, there just isn't TIME, you know?)
Minus the baby part, I'm with Morgan.
Hey, I've been trying to get a real job after playing Mr. Mom for 18 months. I'd actually rather be doing a little more work and a lot less laundry.
I like when you "relinquish it to The Man." Heh heh heh.
Like you I am the permanent Laundrymaster and I wouldn't want it any other way. The problem is that J seems to think that along with being the permanent Laundrymaster I am also the permanent Foldingmaster. How did that happen? I have a hard time folding my own laundry so I am not exactly dying to do it for someone else too.
Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad if my view was like yours, but we're still snow covered (you know the city kind with yellow snow because of all the dogs) and spring seems ages away.
Why on earth would anyone need to italicize a semicolon?
My husband is much the same way - when I spent six months doing nothing but work and study for the CPA exam, he did all the stuff around the house without complaint. It was great. Of course, then I had to get back in the habit of not lazing around in my previously-rare spare time and start being useful again, which was kind of hard.
Teri--Lest I annoy everyone, I'm going to take that bit about the semicolon as a rhetorical question. :)
But yeah, it's going to be hard in the next few weeks to start being a functional member of the house again after being waited on for so long.
Also, thanks for outing my paint-peeling farts on the Internet.
Sounds like you've had the same kind of January and February as me. I just met a huge deadline this week. It was the kind of deadline that had me grinding my teeth in my sleep to the point of chipping one of them. It's the kind of thing you should take care of right away but no I had to keep going and for 3 weeks that damn tooth scratched at the side of my cheek until yesterday when I finally had time to get it fixed. I recommend calling in sick one day when it's all over and spending a day with your family. I did that yesterday, I saw Avatar months after the rest of the world and finally was able to take part in the Olympic festivities in my city. This week I am all Olympics all the time, heading out to pavillions and parties, I love Vancouver.
Your comment on the Sundry blog made me laugh and so here I am. {waves} HI!
Adding you to my reader. That's the place where people who make me laugh get to stay.
Oh dear, I so hear you. I'm trying to work, keep up appearances (my own, my child's and my house) and not blight someone's babyhood by letting the Magic Swing do most of the nurturing. Simons and I haven't gone out in forever, and when we have, it's been this rushed and guilty escape while constantly wondering what the baby is up to. And taxes...oh hell, haven't had time to even think about them. It's hard to let go and let someone else drive...or not drive and watch while the dog hair takes over the house. But the world does not end. And patting tiny boy heinie is way more important right now.