Catherine folded laundry in the basement of her perfectly adequate single family home. Her life could be summed up by the pairs of underwear- male and female- she folded: plain, simple, uninspiring.
She turned off the light in the dimly lit laundry room and carried the basket up the steps from the basement to the main floor. Light poured into the family room from the bay window at the front of the house. She looked at her family- husband asleep in the recliner, daughter watching her favorite cartoon, and son playing with his matchbox cars- and smiled. They were the perfect nuclear American family and yet something was missing. As she rounded the corner to go up the next set of stairs to their bedrooms, not a single person looked in her direction. She paused with one foot resting on the bottom step waiting for someone to acknowledge that she had walked through the room, but no one seemed to notice.
"Well then," she mumbled, "I see that no one notices me anymore. I think I will just leave the laundry here in the basket and see how long before they notice that!"
But two weeks passed and no one noticed. No one noticed the other baskets of laundry being dumped on top of the previous ones. As long as the children had socks and underwear and clean clothing to wear, no one noticed that the house was beginning to look like a laundry-mat exploded.
There were other things, too, that frustrated Catherine. The kitchen sink would be full of dishes even though the dishwasher was empty. Groceries were bought and put away and nary a word was mentioned unless a favorite treat was exhausted before being quickly replaced.
Where did I go wrong? she mused. Where did I lose sight of my hopes and dreams for a loving and engaging family life? Where is my Hallmark Family?
Each morning she got up at 5 am to finish cleaning anything that was missed the night before, packed lunches and backpacks, and brewed a pot of coffee. The family slept peacefully for another hour and a half so that they got enough sleep. On days that her husband did not have to go in to work as early, he took the children to the bus stop, but on the rest of the days, Catherine had to take the children to a before-school program and then hurry home to meet them when they got off the bus. The daily grind was just that- a grind.
A month after the laundry began to pile up, Charles, her husband, asked a question,then made a comment, and finally a suggestion. "Why aren't you taking care of the laundry? You know we can't have anyone over to the house because you aren't keeping up with the cleaning. Maybe you should take a day off from work to clean the house."
Catherine looked at Charles and responded, "Why don't you?"
"What?"
"Why don't you take a day off from work and clean the house?"
"Why would I do that? I work hard all day, the last thing I want to do is take a day off to clean. Oh, I get it, you were being rhetorical. Okay, okay, this Sunday I will take the children somewhere so you can get some work done." he responded as he walked into the next room. He was done discussing it.
An afternoon to myself? What will I do? I could get the laundry sorted and the living room vacuumed, but I don't think I am going to do that. I think I deserve to be pampered a little bit!she thought while she hummed a little off-key tune to herself.
Sunday came and went, the laundry was still piled high, the dishes were in the sink, and the living room floor was getting decidedly crunchy. However, Catherine had a new Mani-pedi and hairstyle.
"What did you do?" Charles fumed. "I gave you an afternoon to get caught up. I took the children out for the day so you could clean the house, not get your nails done!"
"I work hard all week and thought that getting a little bit of me-time would make me feel happier," she responded. "Maybe you can take the children again this coming weekend. I'm sure that I will be able to get something done."
"I can't, I am going down to my brother's to watch the game."
The detente was strained. The laundry was barely being addressed, and the overall cleanliness of the house was deteriorating. The children did not notice. As long as they had clean clothes, food to eat, toys, cartoons, and a bedtime story, they were content; or so it seemed.
One day, two months after Catherine's strike began and on her day off, Brian, their six year old son, climbed onto his mother's lap and asked "Why don't you love us anymore?"
"What makes you say that?" Catherine nervously laughed. "Of course I love you!"
"You don't like the house then?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, you used to clean all the time. When we got home from school, you cooked dinner, and then cleaned up. When we got up in the morning, you had cleaned more. You also liked doing the laundry, why do you hate it all so much?"
"Oh, you thought I liked to clean and do laundry because I was doing it so much?" she inquired.
"Why else would you do it?"
"To show that I cared for my family... Oh, now I see," she murmured. "If I stopped doing those things, I must no longer love you, is that it?"
"Yes," he responded shyly.
"No, it doesn't mean that I no longer love you or the family or the house. It means that Mommy is tired of doing it all. Mommy is tired of no one noticing all that she does and how hard she works. When I stopped cleaning all the time I was able to spend a little more time with you and your sister. I read extra stories and I even baked your favorite cookies. I stopped cleaning so much because I didn't think it mattered to anyone."
"It does matter Mommy. Do you want me to help you put away laundry? I don't think there is anything in my drawers or closet anymore. It should be easy to do."
"Thank you my love, I would love some help."
With a lighter heart, Catherine took Brian's hand in hers and walked upstairs to tackle the laundry monster.
When Charles got home from work he noticed that the laundry was finally put away and that the living room was vacuumed. Ha, he thought, I knew I could out-wait her!
(to be continued)
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