For this author, creative endeavors have been sorely tested by motherhood. But also transformed, and in ways she wouldn’t have imagined – couldn’t have, without her life “rewritten” as it has been, by her children. So linger here, to read all things weaverly, writerly and motherly.

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Thursday, June 16, 2011

Dropping Shoes, Leaving Them Where They Lay

My husband came home from work, and pointing to my son’s sneakers lying in the middle of the hall rug, said, “Whose are these? And where do they belong?”




Ryan dutifully put them where they belong.

“Thank you,” Daddy said.

Then Daddy proceeded to the kitchen, where he took off his own shoes and dropped them on the floor. And left them there.


A double standard perhaps? Whatever, nothing new here; my husband has been leaving his shoes where they lay for the ten years of our marriage. Sometimes I put them back where they “belong,” in the hall closet. Just as I hang up his trail of pajamas that he leaves on the floor on the way to the bathroom every morning.

He used to leave a trail of all his clothes, when he came home from work on his way into the shower. Dutiful newly-wed wife, I would pick them up and put them in the hamper. We were newly married, it seemed, for years; I chalked this up to getting used to sharing my once larger, far more private space with another human being.

Until I started to rebel. I let the dirty clothes pile up. Which never seemed to get the message across. I was left with a larger pile to dump in the hamper.

Finally, once we were past the newly married stage (with two toddlers in fact), I said to him what he said to his son: “Where do these belong?”

That was the end of that. He never dropped his clothes on the floor again. I should have nipped that one years ago!

The pajamas though, still wind up on the floor. I don’t mind those somehow, as I know he’s always rushing to work, having to commute an hour to a job he hates, to be at the office at the ungodly hour of 7:30 am. He has his morning schedule down to a tee; he even has a bowl, spoon and banana ready for his cereal the night before.

And I never really thought much about the shoes. Maybe because they blended in with all the other shoes – the boys' sneakers, slippers, sandals – dropped around the house.

I didn't think about them that is, until Daddy reminded his son about his own shoes.

Know that I love my husband deeply. He is kind to the core, can’t stand to see anyone suffer the least bit of pain, demands that magical spray before our boys' inoculations. He has a darn good sense of humor (When he was Member of the Month at our health club, he was quoted as saying: “The research is still out on how to stay fit without having to exercise.”) He is thoughtful of others, always returns shopping carts to the supermarket cart stalls, unlike me who leaves them to take up parking spaces. And though he is not an animal fanatic, he does try not to run over the neighborhood cats crossing our driveway.  

Still.

Excuse me? I said, pointing to these:



I think he actually blushed. You know, at the double standard. “How else am I going to know where they are?”

He’s often complaining he can’t find anything because most things wind up in my clutter baskets. But stuff winds up in baskets if it's left lying around for too long. So if he leaves opened mail, crumpled bank receipts and packets of M&Ms on the kitchen counter, eventually they are all swept into a basket.

“If you could actually take them off and put the back in the hall closet, that’s where you might find them ….” I said.

“Well….”  He only frowned.


What could he say? What could he do, except what he usually does, open his mail, then just leave it there, on the counter.

Nothing much has changed since that night – two nights ago. Here are last night’s shoes, his dirty old sneakers he changed into to go tend to his new grass seedlings. Dropped beside his work shoes he'd taken off earlier:



Still.

He’s like the cat I never had because I’m allergic, curling up to me every night in bed. He gives great neck massages. And after ten years, he still likes to reach for my hands across a restaurant table. I love my man to his drop-my shoes-where-I-may sweet core.



7 comments:

Debbie said...

omg- we're married to the same man! nothing but shoes and partially opened mail/receipts all over the house. and we have 2 boys. and we're married 10 years this august. scary . . . thanks for the follow. following you back.
Debbie from nofiltermom.blogspot.com

Sally L. Smith said...

Thanks for your comments on my blog today. I appreciate the encouragement. I already have two more necklaces in the making and fabric picked out for a couple more. I'm giving it a whirl. About the shoes...my kids are gone but we had the same trouble exactly. Some things I just overlooked because other battles were more important at the time. Hang in there, girl.
Sally

Emily said...

Hi! Thanks so much for linking up with Super Stalker Sunday hop. Hope you'll be able to join us again next week!

Your Co-Host,
Emily from Nap Time Is My Time

Mindie Hilton said...

I just wanted to invite you to my link party that runs Friday evening through Sunday. You can link main blog URls, Etsy, Twitter, facebook, give aways, recipes, and crafts!
Come Strut your Stuff.

http://bacontimewiththehungryhypo.blogspot.com/2011/06/party-mindie-style-link-up-2.html

mblackwell said...

thx very artistic and loving i enjoyed reading this :) my hubby leaves trails of socks and he wonders why they never get washed :) im following from stalker sunday

http://melblackwell.blogspot.com/

Alex and Michelle said...

New Follower from Super Stalker Sunday

love all the pics!!

hope you come by and follow us!
http://whatthesemommiesthink.blogspot.com

chantelle said...

new follower from super stalker sunday. would love for you to visit my site and follow back if you like.

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