It's no secret that I'm a control freak. Put me in charge and it needs to go the way I say, in the time I say...blah, blah.
But the good news about me is that if somebody else is in charge of something and I'm just taking part in the fun, I'm all good in letting myself go with the flow.
The director of music at our local church giggles when I say "Whatever you want, boss!"
And I mean it. Who wants to upset her anyway?
Alas, my flexibility is not really what we're talking about here. It'd be a really short post anyway and not really worth anyones time, believe me.
Things are about to change around here; don't worry, it's all good. Or at least it will be.
I got a new part-time job; and after being home full time for the last year and a half, I'm gonna be out of the house making money twenty to twenty-five hours a week.
I'm pretty excited because who am I kidding, I really haven't wanted to be home so much in recent months...but finding work near our home proved to be more challenging than I was ready for, actually.
I got lucky in that the manager of my new job felt nostalgic when he saw on my application that both he and I used to work for the same company. Not at the same time, mind you, but whatever.
See? All good.
Here in lies my problem. My very gracious husband has made it clear that he'll see to it that whatever he and the boys need to do to pick up some of the slack while I get used to my new work schedule, they'll do.
But I have to let them. AHEM.
See my problem? If you know me at all, you do.
So who cares if Jon turns the towels wrong side out as he folds them? At least they're folded. Right now, I care. And last week, I couldn't stop myself from making a comment about how he had done it backwards.
Don't worry, I hated myself for it. And you know what else? In my repentance, I put them away just like they were. And then left them that way. That's pretty big, for me.
It's not just towels, either, as I'm sure you figured. Will the dishes get clean enough if I'm not the one to load the dishwasher....I left veggies for supper every night and no one has eaten a single veggie all week....there is cat hair everywhere, can you not see that?.....
The thing is, I've realized that I can't pick apart my help and still expect to get help. Call it maturity or desperation or whatever...I'm gonna have to channel my mother and just be gracious and grateful for the help. That ultimately means that I'm just gonna have to go with the flow around here too.
God help me.