While my husband is out working hard, doing important things with important people, I am home taking care of our little people and our home. I wash the socks while I'm here. I fold the socks and a lot of times I get the socks all the way to the drawer again before they are needed. When I put them in the drawer they are matched (even heavily worn matched to heavily worn and new matched to new). They are laid out nicely so that you can find the white ones or dark or stripety - as needed. If there is one missing, I don't put it in the drawer. I have a different spot for those guys so that if a partner shows up later they can be reunited (and yes, it feels so good). It's intended to make getting dressed in the morning an easy task, no rushing around to find socks.
When I get back to the sock drawer for a refill, it is no longer lovely. It is a jumbled mess. It makes me sigh, speak fake, soft curse words inside my head ('cause I don't do the real ones - even in my head) and I decide if I will bother to make it nice again. I make it nice again. I question why, why jumble through it when they are clearly laid out. I never say a word.
Well, a while back, I decided to say something. It was pre-meditated, so it was said as nicely as possible. "Why?" I asked. "Why do you have to dig through to find something when everything is already visible and organized?" I was having a bad day. I was crying about the socks. I kept asking myself, "is this really about socks?" In a way, it is. It's just plain about socks. And in many ways it's not.
The answer was, "because it doesn't matter."
"Doesn't it?"
"No. It doesn't matter."
Why then, am I bothering? Why can't I stop needing to have the socks in order when it isn't appreciated. I know he's right, in a way. And I know I'm right, in my own way.
Socks don't matter. But the time I'm taking to make his life easier matters to me. When we finished our conversation I was much more upset than when it started. The end of the conversation was that it just didn't matter. Well, it's what I'm doing and it's part of who I am and it doesn't matter?
Well, I braved the sock drawer again for the first time again today. I had quite a collection to put in there as I have avoided it for some time now. I've done loads and left the folded socks in the basket. It was orderly. I think he noticed that it matters after all. Even if it only matters to me.
Did I mention that I only wear sandals 99% of the time?
*** Jeff's Guest Post***
As I was running late to meet Christine and the boys at Gymnastics, I had Lincoln and Harrison in the car about ready to go. Christine tells me she has a blog post but wanted to have me review it before she posted and would not be offended if I did not want it shared.
I am reminded about our first year of marriage when Christine expressed some emotion about something I found simple. When I shared some great words of advice “Babe, don’t be so emotional”; as if this statement would fix the issue and we could move on to more important things. From that personal learning moment and many more since, I continue to learn from my sweet wife. She being the one who performs all the mundane tasks that are needed to keep our house a home. The one that takes care of our little Harrison each night, the one that manages all the bills, the one that reads to our kids and reminds them to brush their teeth each night. The one that does the laundry each week, the one that is so very patient with a husband who struggles with his sock drawer.
To quote a famous poet who's words I strive to live by:
Never gonna give you up,
Never gonna let you down,
Never gonna run around and desert you,
Never gonna make you cry,
Never gonna say goodbye,
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
-Jeff 
