compassion

I thought it would be too obvious living with two other classmates; they would know, “Oh, it’s her day of compassion.” So I fudged a little bit and chose the day before I left home to come back up here. You know, the day when you are pressed beyond measure to get all of the things you need to get done for yourself because you are going to be away from home for a month.

Since my student teaching, I have shifted much of the responsibility of the household to my family members. Something had to give and it was having the Better Homes and Garden cleanliness. It’s very difficult to not go behind your children and redo their attempts at cleaning the house or helping your spouse on his cooking night.

My husband hadn’t done his laundry since I left. He has enough clothes since we updated his wardrobe, which now consists of button up shirts. Yes, I did his laundry. He had already started to get it together but hadn’t commenced the actual process of laundering. The ironing board cover had been ripped for several years, but I dealt with it. To be considerate of my husband, who would need to iron before my next visit home, I went and purchased a new cover and attached it before ironing his fourteen shirts.

This process was interrupted several times. First, my thirteen year old son asked to play catch. I forced myself to not say, “As soon as I get daddy’s shirts ironed,” and say, “Let me just switch the iron off and I’ll be right out.” Round one commenced as he asked me to critique his newly acquired knuckle ball. He decided to only throw seventy-five pitches so he could throw again later that evening. The ironing was interrupted about every two shirts with, “Mom, will you play a game of cards with me?” I let him choose every game and I even held back. I am a firm believer in playing to win.

At two o’clock, my husband informed me of a quinceanera we had been invited to attend for one of his employee’s daughters. This was perfect for the group we normally don’t focus on. As we pulled up to the venue, I helped carry in food, lots of food, and set up the serving table. When the blessing was over, I started serving food.

As soon as we got home, round two of catch began. After seventy-five pitches, I thought what about my mother in-law who was helping out while I was gone. I asked her if there was anything she needed before I left. She wanted a quieter fan in her room to deal with the oppressive heat, so off I went on the quest to find a quiet fan at eight o’clock on a Saturday night.

In my search for the quiet fan, there was a pan handler outside of Wal-Mart. I usually curse these individuals under my breath when I see them, but this was someone different. It was a young lady not quite twenty and it was still very hot outside. I purchased her a pizza and gave her the case of bottled water.

Upon leaving Sunday morning, my husband hugged me good-bye and said, “It was so nice to have my wife back; I haven’t seen her for the past five years. What gives?”

I used to be more compassionate but have let it take a back seat to establishing my career. This has made me rethink my priorities. Things are going to change for me. I don’t like the person I have become in my quest for becoming a super teacher. Maybe that will expose a new side of me to my students.