wearing my “home” apron to pick the kids up from school one day, a friend asked, “hey, you worked this afternoon?” i knew he meant at preschool, and i almost told him no….but in a moment of spirit taking over, i said, “yup.”
this work of home can weigh so heavily. i sometimes wish it was all i had to do, thinking then it would be more enjoyable…that maybe i would claim it more easily…this cleaning of dirty clothes after determining their dirtiness by smell and sight, this washing of dishes stacked like a magician’s tower of cups and saucers, this scraping of toothpaste and soap from sinks and counters, this wetting of floor only to discover layers of dried shampoo that are now sudsing like a car wash,
this sorting of stuff loved and treasured by children but each item sending my mind to wonder if they would notice if it was gone…this is the work that doesn’t even talk or bark back to me, ask me for something to drink that isn’t water, paw the back door with the threat of peeing on the floor, remind me of something i said i would do that i haven’t done yet…that work is the meat of life…tasty and tender. and maybe that is why i would rather not eat meat…i have enough.
my preschool work is precious and challenging and the ultimate creative outlet for me…the satisfaction of creating a space to invite and encourage exploration and discovery…and i wear an apron there too. an apron that has paint smudges and glitter spots, wiped noses (i don’t encourage this, but am glad to stand still for it) and band-aid wrappers, permanent markers and lids to others, two apron strings that are held and pulled with giggles following.
i guess some people have different hats or uniforms, i have aprons to remind me where i am.