I have been a husband for nearly 10 years now, so needless to say I know virtually everything there is to know about my wife's needs. For instance, I know that she can get by without food for 40 days and 40 nights, but definitely not without chocolate. I also know that she needs clean laundry, flowers, nurturing, romance, protection, a listening ear and clothes that fit. Whereas my basic needs are…well, pizza.
I arrived home from work recently, expecting pizza, knowing my wife would be waiting there, attentive to my every need. But in the kitchen Ramona was halfway inside the dishwasher. The table was piled high with laundry and the stove held not even a hint of supper. I made a mistake then. I asked, "Soooooo…what did you do today?"
Ramona stands up straight, brandishing a sharp fork. "What did I do today?" She walks swiftly across the room—still holding the fork. "WHAT DID I DO TODAY?" She hands me a piece of paper. And stands over me as I read:
3:21 a.m. – Woke up. Took Jeffrey to bathroom.
3:31 a.m. – Woke up. Took Jeffrey back to bed.
3:46 a.m. – Got you to quit snoring.
3:49 a.m. – Went to sleep.
5:11 a.m. – Woke up. Took Jeffrey to bathroom.
6:50 a.m. – Alarm went off. Mentally reviewed all I had to do today.
7:00 a.m. – Alarm went off. Contemplated doing something violent to alarm clock.
7:19 a.m. – Got up. Got dressed. Made bed. Warned Stephen.
7:19 a.m. – Warned Stephen.
7:21 a.m. – Spanked Stephen. Held Stephen. Prayed with Stephen.
7:29 a.m. – Fed boys a breakfast consisting of Cheerios, orange juice and something that resembled toast. Scolded Jeffrey for mixing them.
7:35 a.m. – Woke Rachael.
7:48 a.m. – Had devotions.
7:49 a.m. – Made Stephen's lunch. Tried to answer Jeffrey's question "Why does God need people?" Warned Stephen.
8:01 a.m. – Woke Rachael.
8:02 a.m. – Started laundry.
8:03 a.m. – Took rocks out of washing machine.
8:04 a.m. – Started laundry.
8:13 a.m. – Planned grocery list. Tried to answer Jeffrey's question "Why do we need God?"
8:29 a.m. – Woke Rachael (third time).
8:30 a.m. – Helped Stephen with homework.
8:31 a.m. – Sent Stephen to school. Told him to remember his lunch.
8:32 a.m. – Had breakfast with Rachael. Porridge.
Rest of morning – Took Stephen's lunch to him. Returned library books. Explained why a cover was missing. Mailed letters. Bought groceries. Shut TV off. Planned birthday party. Cleaned house. Wiped noses. Wiped windows. Wiped bottoms. Shut TV off. Cleaned spaghetti out of carpet. Cut bite marks off the cheese. Made funny-shaped sandwiches. Ate one. Yuck.
12:45 p.m. – Agreed to babysit for a friend. Cut tree sap out of Rachael's hair. Regretted babysitting decision. Killed assorted insects. Read to the kids. Clipped ten fingernails. Sent kids outside. Unpacked groceries. Watered plants. Swept floor. Picked watermelon seeds off linoleum. Read to the kids.
3:43 p.m. – Stephen came home. Warned Stephen.
3:46 p.m. – Put Band-Aids on knees. Organized task force to clean kitchen. Cleaned parts of house. Accepted appointment to local committee (secretary said, "You probably have extra time since you don't work"). Tried to answer Rachael's question "Why are boys and girls different?" Listened to a zillion more questions. Answered a few. Cleaned out dishwasher. Briefly considered supper. Briefly considered running away.
5:21 p.m. – Husband came home looking for peace, perfection and pizza.
I am finished reading now, but Ramona is still holding the fork. "Of course, not all my days go this smoothly," she says. "Any questions?"
Often when Ramona and I are at public gatherings, she is asked The Question: "Do you work?" I'm glad she is not holding a fork at this point. Sometimes I wish she'd say, "Actually I work days, nights, and weekends. How about you?" But she doesn't. She's a kind woman. Once, however, she told me that she wishes she had the eloquence to respond as one woman did: "I am socializing three homo sapiens in the dominant values of the Judeo-Christian tradition in order that they might be instruments for the transformation of the social order into the teleologically prescribed utopia inherent in the eschaton."
Then she would ask, "And what is it you do?"
"I'm a lawyer" just isn't all that overpowering then.
If you are a homemaker, let me encourage you: No one on earth can shape the mind of a child like his mother. The pay may be poor, but the rewards are out of this world.
