You'd probably think, since I work from home and am self employed, that I have plenty of time to fit in things I really want to do. Especially since the kiddies are in school for 6 hours each week day. But honestly, I work-- like work my tail off-- those days. And the moments during my day that are not invested into my artwork and business, well, I usually hop on the treadmill, run an errand, or do a bit of house work. We play board games and tell stories and watch shows at night. And then there is bedtime. And prayers. And I sneak off for some more work while everyone sleeps.
And I find, maybe because I'm so thankful for the opportunity to work doing something I truly love, I put 110% into it most days...Which, every now and then, burns me out. Sometimes I don't even know its happening.
A whole week might go by where I only wear Under Armor. (Phil calls my 'active wear' leotards. Or. When he really wants to get the message through, he just calls me Jane-- as in Fonda.)
I might fall asleep with the computer on my lap. Wake up all make-up eyed ( translate: ugly-faced:) and worry as I stumble into the bedroom if my occasional make-up sleep is gonna ruin my hopes for a wrinkle free mid-thirties.
And the dishes from dinner are there staring me in the face in the morning. The same morning my dad stops by on the way to the golf course just to say 'hi' (which I love. melts my heart:)...And I'm hoping all he sees in the kitchen door window while he waits for me to open it is his own reflection. Heaven help me if he can actually see in. Cuz this girl is tossing last night's dinner dishes into the oven.
Yes. I have stooped that low, my friends:).
I feel like somedays I do a bunch of things okay. And nothing really, really well. Even though I'm trying super hard at everything. And I honestly wonder if Phil thinks I'm the housewife from you know where. Cuz it is a cold day in you know where when my house is sparkly clean and I'm looking pretty and my work is all caught up. Those things rarely align like that.
Then Phil and I have a conversation in the truck this week, driving home from errands. With kids making a ruckus in the back seat. I don't even know why/how it came up...And wasn't sure he had actually heard me... But I told him I've always wanted to sneak off to the movies by myself in the afternoon.
It looks silly writing it now:). I've just never done it...never justify the time being spent like that. But to sit in the movie theater by myself-- to me, that is kinda awesome (insert: angelic choir singing).
Some girls like to get their hair done.
Or get a massage.
Or have their nails painted.
I wanted a movie all to myself:).
Popcorn on the side.
And you wanna know what Phil said to me today...on his day off from work?
Go see a movie.
You've been working really hard. And deserve it.
Brownie points X 1000 for that guy:).
So I sat today at 4 o'clock in the afternoon in a big theater all by myself.
Big, nerdy 3D glasses on.
Popcorn and soda.
And had a date with the Titans.
Turns out, the movie pretty much rocked.
Also, the dishes were done when I came home.
And no. They weren't stacked inside the oven:).
I'm so thankful that Phil sees past my messes and leggings and short comings. And listens when I say things. Because just when I think I've pretty much dropped the ball in every way, and start to feel burnt out, and think maybe I missed the domestic lesson that all the other girls I know obviously aced...
He let's me know he gets me:). All of me. Even if I'm stuffed into lycra and have smudged make-up and am accidentally cooking our dinner plates.
I knew I was onto something when I found this guy:).