I wear many hats. Some of them are more worn out than others, with brims that are frayed at the edges and threads that are beginning to unravel. They are each significant in their own way.
A handful of them represent each of my cherished relationships, and are embroidered across the front with bright, golden threads that read: Daughter, Sister, Auntie, Friend, Wife, and of course the one that is just a little more tattered than the rest, purely due to the frequency in which I wear it ... Mother. There is also the pile of the ones that represent all of my responsibilities, Career Woman, or more specifically Interior Designer, Mother (because it only makes sense to put it in both categories), Housekeeper, Cook, Keeper of the Schedule, Nurturer, Caregiver, the list goes on. I, at times have let the sheer quantity of the hats that I wear overwhelm me, fill me with anxiety or with bitterness. For this load that I carry... this load that isn't always rewarded by things you can grasp.
But, what this post is about, actually has nothing to do with the fact that these piles of hats can be as overwhelming as a pile of laundry that is dealt with only to return again, with a vengeance, a week later. What this post is about is the reason why I have realized that I am able to juggle, handle and wear each of them with pride.
I read a post the other day that inspired me, I wish I had saved it so that I could link it here, but the title read something like, "I may carry the mental load, but my husband carries me." This article made me stop in my tracks, immediately click on it and proceed to gobble up each and every word. I stopped because this was the first time I had read something written from this angle. It feels at times that there is no shortage of posts, articles, and random rantings about the general idea that men don't understand what women do, especially when children are thrown into the mix, and I can't say I am completely innocent of thinking these thoughts. But, I had just never heard these words written in exactly this way before. The fact that yes, we women, we mothers, we do so much, and sometimes with so little, but to hear the words of someone who had stopped to say you know what, yes, my mental load is heavy, but my husband, my partner is the reason why I am able to carry it, made me stop, think about my own husband, and nod my head, yes.
So, this is to you, husband of mine. You give me the tools. The tools I need to juggle all of the interruptions, all of the emotions, you are why in the end, I can keep it together. You give us financial stability. Your days are long and you come home, often times when it is already dark outside, dirt under your finger nails and dust scattered across your handsome face. You give us emotional stability, never failing to scoop little Sav up into your arms, just at that exact right moment as I am trying to finish dinner and she is tug, tugging at my ankles, begging me to come and play. You kiss me, you kiss her, and your eyes soften just by the sight of our daughter. We eat together and, just as I begin to feel the exhaustion of my Mama duties come to a head, you play the little games with her that make her eat. "ok, Sav, let's eat our beans at the same time ... ready set, go." You crack a silly joke, her eyes light up and you allow me to hear those giggles of hers that I can't get enough of.
For all of the late nights you stayed up talking with me and telling me that even though sometimes things get tough you will always be there to wrap your strong arms around me and remind me that everything is truly going to be ok. Telling me to give myself more credit than I ever do. You never forget to thank me for all I do as a Mom to our daughter, and not just that, for all that I do as a woman, as a person. You respect me for all of the hats that I wear.
So yes, sometimes the load I carry, it feels quite heavy, and hard to define, but because of you, I make it through. And not just make it, I thrive. We thrive. We are blessed. Life is good.