Nuthin', Really...

I recently spoke with a friend who was struggling with her transition from the military into motherhood. At nine months pregnant, she'd just moved across the country, left the Army, lost her support system, started grad school, and set up a new household. In my eyes she was a superstar. "But," she told me,  "when my husband comes home and asks me what I did all day, all I can say is, 'Nothing, really. Well...I emptied the dishwasher.' Megan, I just feel so lazy and unproductive!"

"Ohmigosh, me, too!" I gushed earnestly, "seriously, if only you knew!" We commiserated for almost an hour.

I know her pain. And I know others do, too. As an "experienced" mom of three (stifling a laugh here) in a crowd of friends leaving jobs and venturing into motherhood, I get a lot of cries for help with the same theme. "I feel you!" I say.  "I've been there, too," I say. [More like I am there]. "It's normal. You're normal. And you're doing a great job!" I say. 

But while I say that to them--and mean every last word of it--I never tell myself that. Because really, where is the glory in emptying the dishwasher? (That is, if I even get to it some days). It's so easy for us to recognize and affirm all the many worthwhile things that our friends are doing, especially those crying out for validation. But do we ever give ourselves enough credit? I'll let you answer that one.

Example: when my loving husband comes home, we have our usual exchange: 

Husband: "How was your day?"

Me: "Fine. How was yours?"

Husband: "Fine. What did you do today."

Me: "Nuthin', really. How 'bout you?"

Husband: "Nuthin', really. Long day."

What I really want to say is this: 

"I know you probably won't notice, because well, who would, but I swept and mopped the floor today. I even did it the non-lazy way by moving the table and all the chairs into the family room instead of mopping around them even though I knew the kids would to turn it into a fort and probably break a chair. And ten seconds after starting I threw the darn Swiffer across the room because it wasn't working on all those kids' crumbs that had been cemented to the floor with an impenetrable layer of solidified juice and dog slobber. So I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed like Cinderella until the floor was sparkling clean and then I drug the table and chairs back into the kitchen even though the kids were wailing that I destroyed their jungle gym. And the first thing they did at lunch was spill an entire cup of milk all over the floor. Twice. And I wanted to cry over spilled milk but instead I just got some paper towels. And at snacktime they wanted Kix and decided it would be fun to stomp on all the Kix that fell on the formerly clean floor because they vaporize into little piles of Kix powder underfoot which the dog has been trying to lick up all afternoon but he just chokes on it and drools all over the floor some more. So now I just have to do it all over again and it's kind of pointless that I even mopped in the first place, but look, even though you can't really tell, I mopped the floor! And made a thingy for the house from Pinterest, too!"

I don't say that, though. 

I don't desperately beg for a pat on the back or let him validate the fact that I actually did do something that day. Because I feel slightly embarrassed that mopping the floor might just end up being my biggest accomplishment of the week. And even if it's not, I'm afraid that what I have done just isn't significant enough.

That, my friends, is the real problem. No matter what we're doing today, chances are we think it's not good enough. It won't compare to all the other amazing feats of those who are saving the world. So "nuthin', really" becomes our defeated affirmation that what we do each day doesn't really matter. It doesn't matter that I mopped the floor, because I don't think it's that important compared to other stuff. It doesn't matter that my husband spent all day tearing through a maze of red tape to renew a contract which provides life-saving surgery for our nation's Veterans before racing off to spend all night at grad school, because he doesn't think it's important enough. Even the surgeons who are really saving lives usually don't see it as such. No matter our position in life, it seems that we're bound to a constant comparison that empties our deeds of their worth. 

And that my friends, is also where we're wrong. There's an immense amount of value in the small things. What we do, regardless of how little, does matter. It's our perspective that's broken. Since my transition to stay-at-home-mom, I've in a sense grieved the loss of my "importance" in the world. But even when I was in the workforce and not just the mom who empties the dishwasher, it didn't seem that my tasks at work held that much more importance. It's easy to convince myself now that the grass was greener. Not so. My answer for what I did each day was still the same: "nuthin', really." Even though I was in the Army, working full time and juggling three kids; even though the rest of the world thought I was a rockstar, I thought the opposite. All the memos and reports in the world couldn't make me feel worthy enough. In fact, when I think about it, some of the most important things I felt I did at work had nothing to do with my job description at all. Some of my greatest accomplishments were simply seizing opportunities to help others...like holding my soldier's hand as tears streamed down both of our faces and telling her that yes, there was a way out of her domestic abuse situation, and we would get her the resources she needed. None of my true great accomplishments were in my performance review, and my boss didn't tell me to do any of them. In fact, he didn't even know about them. But had I not been in a job doing things that seemed rather unimportant, I would've never had the chance to do the things that really were--and make a difference in someone's life.  

The moral of the story is thus: our accomplishments will not solely be defined by our job, whether or not we hold an "important" title, or whether or not we check off every item on our 'To Do' list. No matter where we are in life, we'll still be presented over and over each day with little chances to make a difference. So wherever we are in life, we need to embrace that. Sure, it's an ego check to now write "homemaker" instead of "Captain America" on the forms that I must fill out for my daughter's school demanding to know my profession.  But cleaning the kitchen is just as important as my former job because it makes my family happy and keeps them healthy. In fact, I'm far more irreplaceable in my current role than I ever was in the Army. The Army could replace me in an instant. But as a homemaker if I never made dinner or mopped the floor or picked up toys or did laundry...if I threw up my hands because I felt my job wasn't worthwhile or didn't want to just have to do it again, we'd be in a pretty sad state (think Hoarders). And on days that I'm too overwhelmed by life or too paralyzed by my identity crisis to even empty the dishwasher, let alone save lives, at least I'm still forming little lives. I'm giving a hug. Nourishing a baby. Transporting a young mind to school to learn. Or at the very least getting helpless little beings through yet another day mostly unscathed (save a penny or two). 

So now, in hindsight, I really can admit that all those wearying tasks of "nuthin', really" amount to a whole lot of something. Regardless of how much housework I did or didn't do, by the end of the week I've still prepared over 90 meals, changed at least 45 diapers, and produced over a gallon of milk. And this week, I can claim accomplishments even beyond the ongoing privilege of keeping my kids clothed and fed. I read a few dozen bedtime stories which brought me one step closer to turning out three productive and literate little citizens. When taking my daughter to school, I pushed away my shyness and stepped out of my comfort zone to offer a smile and a kind word. In return I was blessed with a wonderful new friendship. When cleaning the toilets I didn't really want to clean, the germaphobe in me rejoiced just a little that yet another surface was disinfected, if only for a moment, and that we all might stay a little healthier, if only for a moment. In abandoning my endeavors to finish the laundry, I was able to embrace some quality time with the kids, going on a walk and allowing both big kids to ride their bikes even though I knew it would take for.ev.er. Which it did. But they loved every second and won't stop talking about it now. That joy is absolutely priceless.

So yes, even though I still have loads (pun intended) of laundry waiting for me and I haven't cured cancer (yet), I really have accomplished a lot this week. And I bet my bottom dollar that you have, too. Especially now that you know how much every little thing you do--especially putting others ahead of yourself--really matters. So whether you're trapped in a mundane job, floundering with some new role or transition, or stuck in a rut that makes you feel like you just can't do it all or keep it all together, give yourself an overdue pat on the back. I know we can't all be powerful CEOs or be Mother Theresa every second of our lives, but we can give our humble selves some credit. It's good for us, too. Because when we start to take pride in what we do and recognize that it really does hold some level of worth, it's a self-redeeming cycle. We will take more pride in what we do. We'll do it a little better and be a little more content with our current state of life--chosen or not. And we will recognize at the end of the day that instead of doing nuthin', we can actually be proud of having done something.
Really. 

Join the conversation!

Are you struggling with a transition? Do you feel like what you do doesn't measure up in some way? What have you done this week that you haven't given yourself due credit for? G'head and brag about it, you know you should!