Give and take

It's that dread time again: high school parent teacher conferences. In other words, that means two socially draining back-to-back 14 hour days for Jeff. Monday (yesterday) was day one of two. A brief caveat: I know that plenty of people regularly work 14+ hour days. I can't begin to understand that lifestyle. I'm not going to apologize for our regular sweet schedule during the off-season (no cross country or track to coach). Most days during the winter off-season, Jeff leaves home at 6:15am and returns home by 4pm--a solid 8 hour day, no more. It is rather idyllic, and it played a contributing factor to Jeff's choice of profession. All I can do is write about my own experiences, and when I'm used to having my husband home by 4pm, waiting four extra hours for his return is hard. (Track season is fast approaching and I'm not ready to give up that extra 2.5+ hours of husband-time yet!)


As usual for day one of parent teacher conferences, I was pretty cool and collected yesterday. (it's on day two that I normally fall apart--dreading tonight just a tad bit) Jay stayed home sick. I had a nice long phone conversation with my sister, making clever plans. I ran loops around the driveway and field in the cold fog. I didn't feel overwhelmed. I gave each of my kids individual attention. I let sick Jay and bouncy Amber watch lots of cartoons (come to think of it, that probably helped with my calmness). When Rose got home, Amber was watching Jay play Legend of Zelda on Nintendo, so Rose joined in watching the video game. It was calm. I was calm. Bless screens and their ability to give me calm! Curse screens and their ability to give me calm! Thankfully I feel way less guilty about unlimited screen time when sickness strikes, so my guilt was minimal--hence the calm.

For dinner I heated a can of tomato soup and made grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids. I had leftover pork on a salad. It was low effort with universal satisfaction--my kind of meal! After Jay and Amber finished eating and left, Rose sat with me at the table, chatting animatedly about school. Note to self: Rose is sweet and far less overwhelming when she's not competing with her siblings for attention! We even had a brief mini gospel chat about this week's New Testament lesson. I was nailing this solo parenting gig!

At 6pm Rose and Amber played happily together with the Lego Duplos for a solid half hour. I was feeling bake-y and snack-y after my salad-y dinner, so I made a double batch of ginger molasses granola from my beloved Run Fast Eat Slow cookbook. While the granola baked, it perfumed our house in a soft scent of ginger-ific delight. Hello, cozy homey ambiance! And though we missed him, my husband's presence wasn't even a contributing factor to the cozy feeling. I felt rather proud of myself for carving peace out of a husbandless evening.

While my granola baked, I shepherded the girls into getting ready for bed: family prayer, then a brief discussion about Cat's Cradle string games with Rose, and bed. I stirred the granola again and realized I was still in my shirt, jeans, and shoes. I wore my shoes all day today because they kept my feet so nice and warm, even though they are kind of clunky and not too stylish. (I NEVER wear shoes around the house, but our house is a tad drafty and shoes make such a difference on a drafty floor.) Since I made it to 7:30pm without changing out of my daytime clothes, I figured I'd keep them on till Jeff got home from parent teacher conferences. Why not look nice-ish and slightly put together when my husband gets home?

Those thoughts reminded me of Laura Petrie (Mary Tyler Moore) on the Dick Van Dyke Show, and that led me to a silly Instagram post around 8pm:

Mary Tyler Moore and I don't look alike, but I feel kind of like Laura Petrie "dressing up" for her husband: Jeff left for work 14 hours ago when I was still in my pajamas. It's 8pm and I'm sitting around in my daytime clothes, waiting to put on my pajamas until after Jeff gets home from parent teacher conferences so he will see me in something other than my pajamas and I can feel like a grown-up who wears grown-up clothes instead of pajamas all day. I know that he knows that I am a grown-up who wears normal clothes, not pajamas during the day, but here I am, in my clothes at 8pm. The funny part is, my daytime clothes are jeans and a regular shirt--nothing nearly so cute, fancy, or trendy as Laura Petrie wore for Rob. Times change. Kind of.

I meant all of that as a joke for several reasons:

1. I am quite possibly the least fashionable person I know. I put comfort and function above cuteness when I shop for clothes. I like to feel cute, but I'm six feet tall and I don't feel cute if I'm not comfortable, so it's nearly impossible for me to find clothes I like. Mary Tyler Moore's role of Laura Petrie was the sitcom embodiment of Jackie Kennedy--sleek, fashionable, and coiffed to a fault. The contrast between us amused me in the moment while I awaited Jeff's return.
2. My hair was in a low limp saggy wispy bun--not quite the look of a romantic heroine: another amusing factor.
3. As a "modern woman," (dare I say feminist?) I utterly balk at the idea of "dressing up" for my husband. HAH. My value is FAR more than my visage! Of course Jeff and I respect and love each other no matter what clothes we are or aren't wearing (and Jeff knows what's under my clothes--both my mind and body--and he says that's better than clothes anyways, hehe).
4. I change into my pajamas when the kids do most nights, which is around 7pm. It felt foreign to be in stiff ole jeans after 7pm.

SO, Jeff got home right around 8pm, as I was finishing typing up that silly Laura Petrie post. I greeted him, and we changed out of our daytime clothes. I started telling him about my day, and after about two minutes, he stopped me and asked if he could go have some alone time to unwind after his long intense day.

SLAM.

It hit me. WHY do I always forget this side of parent teacher conferences? I spend all day doing all the household/childcare things while looking forward to when Jeff will finally be home again so I can share some of the load with him (if only verbally). And he is too mentally and socially fried to listen to more than five minutes of my 14 hours' worth of chatter. EVERY TIME I forget that. That's probably why day two is so much harder than day one--I have been reminded forcibly that once my husband is home, I still won't really be able to talk with him. Don't they have business trips for that kind of absence? Parent teacher conference days are the worst, especially for my introverted husband who needs quiet alone time like he needs water. We are both introverts who value and crave quiet alone time, but my entire day was full of quiet alone time while Jeff's was full of the opposite. Hence our distaste for parent teacher conferences: neither one of us feels up to meeting the others' social needs.

So last night, when Jeff stopped my chatter with his request to get away from people (myself included), I felt the sting sizzle my heart. But I stopped myself from going to battle over it. I have been through this enough times (22 times to be exact--6 PT conference nights per school year for 7.5 years) to remember that it doesn't mean he doesn't care about me or alllll of the Things I did today. It just means that he has been hanging on by a thread for the past four hours and he just really needs to have his first quiet moment of the day right before bed so he can be calm enough to fall asleep so he can get up and be mentally healthy enough do it all again tomorrow.

I know all of that, but the reality of it still stings, even years down our road together, on the 23rd day of parent teacher conferences. Tonight I let myself feel the sting for five entire seconds. Then I swallowed the hurt and let him go. I think he realized that he had interrupted me and stung me a bit, (he knows that it hurts my feelings when he interrupts me to get away), because he softened and hugged me and asked a few follow up questions about what I had been telling him. I answered him briefly and then let him go have his alone time. I think he was relieved that I didn't start crying or get mad or start a conversation we were both too tired to have. I know I was impressed with my forbearance!

To be honest, the rebuff still stung a little for the rest of the evening, but I feel like I have come a long ways to be able to understand that last night was one of the nights where I had to sacrifice what I wanted (an adult conversation with my dear husband) for what he needed (time to decompress before bed). I felt like such an adult for realizing this in the moment rather than after bursting into tears or angrily explaining to him why it is so unfair/hard/sad to me when he gets home and doesn't want spend time with me or talk. Hello, my love language is words of affirmation! Hence the extra nettle-ish sting of a dismissal.

The selfish voice in my head whined "I've been giving all day! I deserve to be able to TAKE for the first time in 14 hours! He owes me a 30 minute conversation!" 

The voice of experience answered: "But HE has been giving all day too. Sometimes you have to choose to keep giving and give him space, even when all you want to do is hang onto his elbow and tell him all of the things." 

So even when I feel like it's my TURN to take--to take time from him, to do something for myself in talking to him, I chose to give. Goodness knows Jeff does that enough for me on other days. Love is sacrifice. Love is give and take. Eventually, I will get to take again and he will give again. It will likely happen this week even, barring mental health difficulties that often accompany parent teacher conferences. (please, no!) Parent teacher conferences only come six days per year (two days per trimester). I can survive, even if it's annoying and hard and thankless and lonely.

Morals of the story:

A little forbearance goes a long way in a marriage.

Some days there is simply more giving than taking.

Oh, and dress up for yourself, not for someone else.


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Recent pictures:

 Foggy soggy field running.

Sick Jay: fever, limp, sad, with a touch of the runs.

My granola: lost in translation. I salvaged most of the scattered spill, but grr.

The girls, sleeping peacefully in their messy bedroom. Rose is on the top bunk, Amber is on the floor amidst the "booksplosion." 

Putting shoes on in the most inconvenient place: on the tiny landing at the top of the steep one-lane basement stairs.

Dental cleaning: the only way I could tell Rose was tense was her pointed toes.

Amber looked amazing in her wrong-foot pink boots and dentist bib and sunglasses.

Amber, taking advantage of Jay's sick day screen time.

Amber, taking advantage of me BLINKING once. "Look at my face, Mommy! I painted it purple."

On Sunday morning, Rose carefully wrote out invitations to her upcoming birthday party.

Sunday night story time: I read four long stories before my voice got tired. Amber wanted more stories so I suggested that Rose read some stories to her. 

 Intense Rose read EIGHT books in a row to Amber.