Full-Time

Before I lost my job, I honestly wondered what I was going to do all day. I pictured a scene out of an insane asylum -- a straight-jacketed me rocking back and forth indistinguishably parroting what I heard on "Live with Kelly and Michael." 

This season of my life (all one month of it) has been--surprisingly--not like that at all. While I do sometimes indistinguishably mutter under my breath during morning television (large-framed, black glasses don't a philosopher make, Jenny McCarthy), this month has brought a vitality and refreshment to my life and marriage that I never predicted. 

I have come to this conclusion: 

Being a woman and a wife is a full-time job; one that most of us double-up with another one. Everything I was pathetically fitting in can now fill the hours of my normal day.

I had to cut out five loaves of bread and two fish (at least it wasn't 5000) for each of my students for last night's Bible class. As I leisurely weaved my scissors around the very curvaceous fish (Come on, Picasso-- they're 4), I flashed back to my previous life; a life where I would balance a spreadsheet and reward myself by cutting out paper disciples and stuffing them in my purse for later. 

I'm sure whoever emptied my trash in the evenings wondered who hired the psychopath with the mangled paper dolls in her trashcan. 

When Justin gets home from work, I am able to sit down with him and talk to him about his day; beforehand, it wasn't uncommon for me to say, "How was work?" and then start the vacuum before he had time to answer. Nothing says, "I care about your day" like scream over this monstrous machine. 

All of this and I'm not even a mother. I honestly don't know how you people do it. I went to shut a closet door today and my dog had already pulled every square of toilet paper off the roll and shredded it into confetti pieces. I'm talking 10 seconds- tops. Word on the street is that toddlers are faster and more destructive. 

It is so taboo now to simply enjoy being a woman; a new wife; a friend; a church member. We feel like these are adjunct jobs to the nucleus of our life; I know I did. And it was because I refused to admit that they are a central piece of the puzzle that I questioned what value I would find when the other was gone. 

Much to my surprise, I have found great fulfillment. Justin came in the other day and I gleefully boasted, "I made a chowder-- and I cut up a bunch of vegetables!" Eating vegetables and cutting vegetables are both very dangerous tasks for me. 

Am I saying quit your job? Absolutely not. Am I saying everyone's personality is conducive to not working? Heck no. I know some of you can only digest a Subway sandwich if you're in front of a full email inbox. And that's perfectly OK. 

What I am saying is give yourself a break, sister. You have 3+ full-time jobs and you're beating yourself up like you only have one. 

You are preparing Sunday School lessons when the last thing you want to think about is someone getting swallowed by a giant fish. Someone on TV makes you wonder if your child is gluten-intolerant but the foul-smelling gook all over your business suit informs you that you only have time to deal with his green pea intolerance. You stare at the pudgy mass that has taken residence on your abs and wonder if the gas station food you grab on your lunch break could be the culprit.

I can tell you--from this perspective--that you are a superhero without a cape; a pioneer without praise. 

Know your worth-- with or without a job; know your value within your family (even if it's Dodge's Fried Chicken for supper); know that your husband still sees his college sweetheart even if you don't. 

Get to life.