While You Were Sleeping

Recently, while helping Peter [4] step into his underwear he said to me, “Why don’t you get a job?  You don’t do anything.”  I tried to tell him that my job was taking care of him, shaping his character so that he became a productive member of society, but this seemed to him a flimsy excuse.  And so it often is with the mom job—appreciation is in short supply.  Which is fine.  When Peter is sworn in as president that will be thanks enough.  Of course, on the day of his inauguration he’ll probably hand me an application and tell me that the White House kitchen staff is hiring.  “Seriously, Mom,” he’ll most likely say while patting my brittle shoulder, “you’ve schlepped long enough.  It’s time to get to work.”

So what is it that I do?  What does any Mom do?  One thing’s for sure, time is always in short supply.  Laundry, cleaning, errands, meal prep, etc. has a way of swallowing a day, leaving little time for anything else.  And yet, moms, more often than not, find ways to accomplish so much more.  Whether home schooling or running a cottage industry, stay-at-home moms have a stronger work ethic than my little man suspects.   Even I—Peter’s loafing mother—manage to squeeze in a little “work” during the course of the day, and next month proof of that work will be hitting LDS bookstores in the form of a romantic comedy entitled, Letters To My Future Husband (Cedar Fort.)  It’s been ten years since I’ve published in the LDS market—a dry spell Peter, no doubt, considers proof of my couch-potato ways.  But the truth is during that time I’ve been working—working on raising our family, and improving my craft. 

While Peter has slept, played, watched TV, and shouted for another bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, I’ve written.  I’ve written in parks, at ballet rehearsals, and after-school car lines.  I’ve written when the house was quiet and when it’s been chaotic.  From start to finish it’s taken me roughly a year to write this book, and while I’m excited about the finished product, I know it’s unlikely to impress Peter, which is fine.  If that were my intention I would have started my own landscaping business, because nothing gets respect from him like a riding lawn mower.

Besides, I don't want respect.  I want sloppy kisses and bear hugs and shouts in the morning for me to come snuggle.  So I'll just continue doing "nothing," and writing when I get a chance, because job or not, I like the perks that come with it.