The Flip

I came home to piles of laundry on our bed. Folded piles of laundry. Folded coordinated piles of laundry on the made bed.  And so the flip has begun.  Ben and I will be switching roles for the next

year. He will be the "primary parent" (a term he recently discovered and proudly owns) and I'll be the working parent. I'm actually not certain what to call what I will be and this seems to be pretty much what I have been feeling as of late.  I think all of us moms go through this. This identity shift and change continually in moments and through seasons - mom, wife, friend, sister, daughter, employee. We have an understanding, it seems, of before I was a mother and after, before I became a wife, when I was single, when I was working, I was...

I will be a classroom teacher once again. Eighth grade.  I love the angst of the early adolescent years. This struggle to define themselves and discover who they are and who they want to become.  I identify with it, maybe a little too much. Lord have mercy on this perpetual puberty. Approaching this school year, I am equally excited and hesitant.  My babies are five years old, three, two and one.  I anticipated going back to full time teaching someday but someday came sooner than we expected. 

On a Tuesday afternoon, before the boy's swim lessons, Ben was fired from his Outdoor Education Coordinator job. We were given three weeks to pack up our home, our life and move on. To what? Everything shifted. Everything flipped.

Ben needed time, needs time. With my degree and the timing of the "shift" it seemed obvious it would be me who would pursue an income.  Not even a week after Ben lost his job, I had my first interview for the job I was offered. There has been no time really to reflect or think or feel even. You put your head down and do what you need to do. Pack bags, wrap up treasures, take snapshots in your mind of the place you hoped your children would grow up and with the help of dear friends you move on and into the first floor of a gracious family from your church.

People wonder how we are doing with all this. I wonder!  They mainly ask about Ben. How is he really with staying at home? Answer: To quote Ben, "I'm going to coordinate the sh*t out this!"  There already is little pictures of clothes on drawers so the boys know where to put their laundry.  He already has found a more efficient app for meal planning and grocery shopping.  He has even already signed up to take a meal to someone in our church.  I think people should rather ask how I am doing with my husband showing me up as Super Mom, I mean, Super Primary Parent. 

Honestly, it makes me so proud and so thankful. I am humbled by this gift of my man.  We always held to this egalitarian understanding of our marriage and the way this flip has been so fluid thus far shows the depth to how sincerely we hold the truth of that ideal.

And sure, there has been some stumbles, some arguments, some bruised feelings  and there will be more as we continue to figure this out. The unofficial first week of me working, I came into the kitchen just to grab something so I could continue to write my parent letter in the other room. Banner asked for a frozen yogurt tube. "Of course, baby," I say and grab one without even thinking. Ben looks at me aghast. "Seriously? Dinner will be on the table in five minutes!"  He's angry but I secretly loved it. Flip.  

This use to be my "domain."  Granted, Ben never, ever once stepped into my "territory" and assumed charge. It was more like me throwing babies at him, begging for him to take over, the minute he walked into the house.  But now, how much more of an opportunity to really step into each other's shoes, to really appreciate one another, to really grow in our understandings of how much it really takes to be true partners in life and in love.

He has even washed the sheets already. For the love. Really, for the love. I can honestly say there is no hidden envy or "You just wait, Ben, after weeks of this" or "Yeah, of course you can because you didn't have little people literally sucking your brain capacity out of you for the last five years..."  None of that. Don't believe me?  Watch us. It is quite impressive.  I can't even fathom how it's working.  I think it has a lot to do with how we identify ourselves. Are we defined by our roles? Our work? The amount of our income? Where we live? 

Jesus' last prayer in the garden was that we would be one as He and the Father are one.  The union of the divine.  Separate but one. Each constantly seeking to give glory to the other.  This is our prayer in marriage that we would be one. And I hope to give glory, to honor Ben in whatever role we play. And He feels the same. In this submission to one another, we find one ourselves and our identities are made true in love no matter who is bringing home the paycheck or folding the piles of laundry.