Dear disgruntled housewives and moms, I know you are out there. Sometimes, late at night or early in the morning when I am on the floor, wiping away the micro messes of “the formative years”, I think of you. I know you always wanted children, a home to house your family and all of their acquisitions. I know you dreamed of being needed and of all of the special things you would show and teach your babes. I know that you too are on your hands and knees, yet again, wiping, cleaning, praying for something more. More patience, more time (for yourself, for your dreams), more help, more laughter, more money, freedom, more understanding and definitely more respect.
I know that you don’t like to complain, seem ungrateful, play the victim or martyr role. I know that it’s sometimes challenging to find your own voice or remember who exactly you were before all of the wiping, sweeping and preparing. I know that you probably grew up in a culture that teaches you to make motherly sacrifices in joy and without a doubt. In fact it’s criminal in some circles to hint at even the slightest bit of dissatisfaction with your all consuming, unsalaried day job, parenting choices, etc. Because after all, you’re making an investment in our future. And the benefits are numerous as you watch your children grow into caring, healthy, happy individuals. The greatest contribution ever. Priceless, right???
The truth is my darlings, you don’t get paid. Not because you’re not worth it. Seriously, there’s not enough money in circulation to even begin to compensate you for your time, energy, imagination, creativity, cooing, handiworks, love, labor, rocking, washing, driving, strolling, walking, etc.
So why on earth would you need a break??? Much less a paycheck? How could you conceive of stepping away for even a moment from the glorious monotony, the laundry, lunchtime, nap time, dinner time, “mommmmmy”?
I mean, if you’re not one hundred percent happy, “perhaps you shouldn’t have had children”, etc…
Well you know what. F that!!! I am holding a space for you. A space where you are unapologetically allowed to complain, grieve for your lost innocence and independence, debrief, un-burn out, re-fuel, empty, re-fill, cry if you want to, laugh at the sheer lunacy of things you find yourself saying (i.e., “son you can’t stand on your sister”, “yes you do have to come out of that tree” and “no we are not getting an elephant, or a hippo for that matter”, “because I said so”…). I am visioning a sacred space where you are safe to be you and get on with it. A place where you recognize yourself when you look in the mirror and you like what you see. Maybe if we can each hold this type of space for one another it will spread. Contagious. Like wildflowers. Maybe if we each do this for a couple of moments any given day, wiping the floors for the seventh time since seven am will be more bearable.
In any case, I want you to know you are not forgotten. Somewhere in the world, in the hearts of grown up children you are remembered, your sacrifices memorialized, honored, your gracious works reflected upon and your unconditional love passed on by the next generation to the next. May you breathe in this affirmation. The love you give expands exponentially in the universe. Your time and efforts are significant, necessary and appreciated.
Disgruntled housewives and moms everywhere, we need you, we love you and we recognize your need to take care of yourselves. Take a break (this doesn’t include going to work, working on your bizness, doing laundry or cleaning house in the quiet when no one is home). If only for three minutes, close your eyes, hold the space, inhale the positive, silence your mind, welcome the sunshine, the rain, the breeze, laugh, dance twirl. You soooooooooooo deserve it!!!
One love, walk good, holding a space, off to wipe the floors… 🙂