It’s in the little things. The half cup of coffee abandoned abruptly on a random bookshelf to be found two days later. The forgetting of the placement of phone, keys tablet, wallet. The annoyance felt toward a left out judge of juice for the umpteenth time. Signs of the primary parent. We are over half way through this flip year and with each and every day, diaper change, meal served, off to work and school drop off kiss exchange, our perspective has widened and our love deepened.
This sweet place of not a word exchanged and we know the need of the other. Not even a look, just simple knowledge of the common toil compels. It was a Monday. Ben was sick and getting sicker. “I’ll probably feel better tomorrow, “ he assured me. Say no more. I was able to arrange for a substitute to watch my class on the next day. Good thing, Tuesday morning Ben was worse. He slept the day away, between frequent visits to the bathroom. I spent the day checking off tasks on his daily to-do list (yes, the professional did "coordinate the sh*t" out of the housework. See blog post “The Flip”) and ventured into his next day of chores. When Ben’s fever broke and he was able to join us in the evening, the look of relief on his face was a shared joy. I know what it means to be sick with housework and children clamoring in the wings. The day after is often worse when it means catch up while you are still feeling so weak and worn. Say no more…
I started to make looking at his housework app a thing I did on the weekends to help him out and get him ahead of the game. I did it for one weekend, maybe two. Then one Saturday I asked him about it. “Hey, did you get the chores done already? There are none on here.” He just kept looking at the book he was reading, “You need a weekend too, you know.” Say no more.
Ben was offered a camp job a few months back. We talked about it. But this is where we want to be presently. Life is simple. The struggle and worry has passed for now. We are truly enjoying this stage.
“Just because we flipped doesn’t mean you can not to be the hot one in bed!” Ben says as he curls his six foot five freezing frame around me under the covers. “Wait. What did you just say?!” I laugh hard and place frigid feet against his calves. These expectations of ours. What we are to be in our lives, in our homes, in our cultures… in bed. (Side note: I don’t mind being known as the hot one, by the way.)
I am this one. You are that one. What if we were to be just one instead? Truly one. Where no words need to be exchanged, no role division needs to be hashed out, we simply were just one. I’ll pick up the forgotten coffee mug and put it in the dishwasher for you. You’ll put the orange juice jug away for me, again. I’ll remember where you put your keys and you’ll find my phone. Say no more. It’s in the little things. Flip.
