My Squirrel

That’s what I’ve lovingly dubbed my husband.

If that doesn’t make sense, allow me to explain:

Squirrels - you know those fuzzy little creatures with the bushy tails that frequent the trees in your backyard - are Nature’s little mess-makers.  

They don’t mean anything by it.  There’s no malice, no ill-intent, nothing like that... they just discard what they’re holding once they’re done with it because, well, they’re squirrels. And what exactly would a squirrel do with it (whatever “it” is), anyway?

Well my husband - who is the kindest, sweetest, smartest, hardest working, most amazing person I have ever been blessed to know - is a squirrel.

When we first got together, as one often does in a new relationship, I found this little quirk of his endearing.  Time and life clouded that sentiment, though, and over the last several months I have found myself grumbling more and more at his “squirreling”.  What I realized today, however, is just where the fault lies... and it’s not with him.

Just as Nature’s squirrels are not malicious in their mess-making, neither is mine; it’s just who he IS.  Once upon a time I accepted him - ALL of him.... so why the change?

Because I started perceiving things differently.

Perception is incredibly powerful.  One of my favorite quote, from RA Salvatore’s book, The Servant of the Shard, illustrates this perfectly: “Do keep ever present in your thoughts, my friend, that an illusion can kill you if you believe in it.”

This applies to relationships, as well, as I have so aptly learned.

By allowing myself to become caught up in illusion (“He’s making my job harder! If he cared...blah blah blah”) I had essentially been spoon-feeding my marriage cyanide.  I had become so caught up in the extra five minutes it took to clean up after him, and the grudge that came with it, that I let what I once viewed as a cute quirk worthy of a nickname become a thorn in my side.

And for what?  He never asked me to clean up his mess.  He didn’t expect it, or view housework as my job; he’s told me time and time again that, while he’s grateful for the housework I do, being a mom is all that he expects of me.  “If I come home and the house is a mess, but the kids are fed and taken care of, I’m happy,” are words he has repeated to me so many times you’d think I’d have them memorized (oh wait, I do...).  Plus, he’s a great housekeeper himself... and if it gets messy enough he will absolutely pick up a broom (seriously, fellow stay-at-home’s, try this one out.  They will ABSOLUTELY reach their limit and do it themselves, lol. Whether their limit matches yours, though.... well that’s a topic for another blog 😂).

So why have I taken such a damaging approach to such a benign behavior?  This is a question I’ve had to ask myself, and honestly... I got nothin’.

What I do have, is the power - and the will - to “make a new choice” (thank you, Iyanla Vanzant).  And I choose to remember.

I remember that the mess on the counter is the result of the work he just did for me - for our family.

I remember that he did that work, and does ALL that he does, because he loves us and wants to take care of us.

And I remember the reason I started cleaning up after him in the first place: I love him, and I know he genuinely enjoys walking into a well-kept home.

So squirrel away, my darling.  I don’t mind.