A little a while ago Ben brought home a piece of school work that Mark put up on the wall. They’d written statements for him and marked where he should complete them with a long line. “My name is _______,” “I am _____ years old” (which he got wrong), and other things Ben is expected to know. One of the statements was “My mother’s name is ______” and Ben answered “dad.”
Mark is a stay-at-home father. I am a work-at-home mother. While I may share more of the domestic responsibilities than the typical working spouse, Mark has a heavy load to carry to fulfill his daily role (especially during the summers) and he has access to far less support than traditional stay-at-home mothers do. Mark and I both appreciated that Ben recognized that Mark’s role was a bit untraditional.
Now, with me partly out-of-commission, we’re undergoing some changes. I can’t lift more than 15 lbs. without endangering my abdomen. Since I don’t know 15 lbs. versus 10 lbs. or 20 lbs. when I’m lifting it, I may not be the strictest adherent to this rule; however, as a family we try our best to accommodate my recovery needs. But this simple restriction changes a lot.
Since my sleep cycle is so screwed up, I have to make most of the days when I’m awake during the day. I usually do my shopping at night, late at night, when everyone else is asleep. I would go to the grocery store, load up my cart, go through the self-check lane, bag my groceries, load them into the cart, load them into my van, and unload them into the house all by myself. Then, I’d put them away. The boys would wake up to a house full of surprises.
Laundry is a bit different. Sometimes I would do it all myself, but sometimes Mark would lug the heavy hampers downstairs for me. Now, I can’t even carry the baskets of clean clothes upstairs unless I separate a load into smaller baskets and make several trips. Daily chores have become especially exhausting. So, now Mark’s doing all the heavy lifting for this family, both literally and less literally.
I may be the one bringing home the bacon, both literally and figuratively, but his job is harder. I know, because I’ve done it. It’s easier when I can help more, but getting me healthy is a priority, too. Resetting expectations and obligations isn’t easy and the timing isn’t good. Summer is not the time to mix things up. But we’re trying, as a family, to make it work. You can’t reset Mama without it spilling over to the entire family, even if she’s a work-at-home Mama.