Skip to main content

A note for my wife

All along, I've said I have the plum job in our family.
I am a stay-at-home dad, which I know and many of you know is a tough job in its own right, but as long as I am a stay-at-home dad, I'll never say it's a tougher job than that of my wife, no matter what job she has.
And I know from experience she has a very tough job now; she's a low-level manager. That, my friends, is a tough, tough job to have. I won't go on and on about why being a low-level manager is hard, so here's a summary: You get crap from everyone below you in the chain of command, and you get crap from everyone above you on that same chain (and somehow all the crap that's not in the chain of command somehow finds its way to your desk). And if you find yourself in the predicament my wife is in, working 12-13 hours a day with more than two hours commute each day, that pile of crap is an awfully hard pile of crap to shovel through, especially with no compensation for the extra hours or the commute.
I'm not going to say my wife has the hardest job in the world or that her job is tougher than your job. All I can say for sure is that her job is harder than mine.
Even if I'm at the verge of tearing hair from head because my toddler daughter is having one of her daily really bad moments (she's getting to be quite the feisty toddler daughter), I can find a way, usually, to calm her down and even get her back into a playful mood. Then I get my reward: a smile or a laugh or even a hug and kiss from my toddler daughter. Even if nobody shows me any appreciation for the job I have, I'll have that, even if I go bald from hair-pulling.
Not so for my wife.
If her job brings her to tears because a boss crawls down her throat or one of her workers throws a toddler-inspired hissy fit, my wife can work her tail off to appease them, often to no avail. I can assure you no playful mood, no smile, no laugh or no hug and kiss will come from it.
And after such a day, all she has to come home to is a cranky husband and a sleeping child (she should come home to a happy husband and a playful child, don't you think?).
And so I've come to realize (or I've known all along) that I do have the easier job, and even though I have the plum job, I haven't been doing a vital part of it very well.
I have not offered my wife a warm enough shoulder or a patient enough ear. I haven't held her enough, or kissed her enough. And then there's this one thing that every husband must learn but it's the toughest thing for him to learn: shut up and listen, just shut up and listen.
And so to my wife I say, "Cherish, I will work harder to give you a warm shoulder and a patient ear. I will shut up and listen."
I'm old enough to know I can't make a promise such as this and make it happen overnight, but I'll try to do the best I can for my wife.
I will try.
My best.
For my hard-working wife.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Adding a splash to the winter gray

Willow, Mommy and I went to the Y's pool on Sunday to take advantage of our membership and to do something summery in this dreary and cold weather. We had so much fun swimming and splashing, Willow and I went back on Tuesday. On Sunday, surprisingly, nobody else was at the pool, and the lifeguard seemed resigned to having to sit boringly in her stand. I have no problem with having an entire pool and a lifeguard all to myself, but, again, I was surprised nobody else was there, except for a few exercisers coming and going to use the steam room and the sauna (and a couple of guys hopped in the whirlpool for a few minutes). When Willow and I went on Tuesday, several people were in the pool, but they quickly scattered when the tot and I entered the pool. Maybe their time in the pool had come to a planned end. Maybe they didn't want to be in the water with someone who might pee or poop at any moment. After the initial scattering a couple of men came into the pool area and swam qui...

Among chaos, peace

I want to show you two pictures, but a little later. First I want to introduce you to chaos (or at least what I consider to be chaos) via a handy, dandy list: I am sitting at a laptop, pounding out a blog's letters as quickly as I can think of them. The laptop is only three months old, yet some of the keys stick sometimes. These sticky keys are the ghostly reminders that a toddler's sticky fingers have been pounding on them. Four loads of laundry lie in various states of "unfinish." One load is wet. One load is wrinkling. Two loads await their spins. A fifth load already has been tucked away in drawers, cabinets and closets (then untucked by a toddler then tucked again by me). Cups, plates and bowls hang for dear life to a hastily stacked pile of dirty dishes in the sink while a clean set of dishes sits in the dishwasher. A pile of pictures and postcards blanket the floor beside the desk in the guest room. This was the work of the sticky fingers that pounded on...

Willow's sliding frenzy

Last week, Willow took a huge step in her quest to become a big girl (she's abiding by her plans, not Mommy's and Daddy's, who want her to stay a baby forever). Willow and I went to the playground for a morning of play and a picnic. Willow's idea of "a morning of play" is usually spending A LOT of time on the swing. Up to last week, if she wanted out of the swing, it was to walk over to another, better swing. Then back again. Last week, things changed. I put Willow at the top of a tot slide and started cheering her to let loose. I readied to keep her from tumbling off the bottom of the slide. She let loose, scooted down the slide and stopped just short of the edge. She shimmied off, smiling and took off after the steps to go back up. She clamored to the top of the slide (this set of slides had one "top" with the option of going down three slides: a straight one, a curvy one and a tunnel one). Willow reached the top, sat down, scooted her bottom t...