A Little Effort Goes a Long Way

I had to write my last post quickly, and it lost good examples as a result. But this example is too fun to leave unsaid.

My husband worked longer hours than usual the past week and a half. On top of that, he had to work at the front counter of his business, meaning his interaction with people was constant. This would be no sweat for some people, but since he's a big-time introvert, it's draining for him. Instead of throwing kids at him and hosing him down with details about our day—as I've done for years—one night we greeted him at the door with a thank-you worthy of his hard work. In just 15 minutes, we were able to shove the toys out of sight, clean off the always-buried table, set it with fancy glasses and place settings (Addison's specialty), throw a salad together, light some candles, and turn on music geared more for adults than preschoolers.

It took just another ten minutes for me to put on a dress (three of those minutes were spent searching the depths of my closet to see if I actually owned a dress), locate and affix jewelry, touch up hair and makeup and pray the perfume bottle I found hadn't fermented since its last use in 1993. The girls followed suit and dressed themselves up, too. Braden shook his head and asked repeatedly, "Why are we doing this again?"

Kevin stumbled through the door and stopped dead in his tracks. We were all standing in the kitchen, clean and smiling, hollering, "Welcome home, Daddy!" How do I know how much it meant to him? Because he couldn't make it through his blessing of the food without breaking down as He thanked God for all of us. And if I needed further affirmation, it came a couple nights later when he cleaned the refrigerator—that's right, ladies, every single crusty, stinky, nasty shelf AND the crisper!—while the kids and I were out. Completely unprompted.

My "welcome-home/thanks-for-your-hard-work" surprise took less than a half-hour. I served a frozen pizza for dinner! I'm not Martha Stewart and I didn't try to be. I just put on a dress and showed my husband some well-deserved appreciation.

I share this only to trigger your own imagination and plant the seed of suggestion. I'm the last person who's going to show anyone up in the domestic goddess department. I didn't even think of it on my own. My energy and creativity are as low as the rest of you; my point is that it took so little energy and creativity. And the result was more than I ever could have imagined. Husbands want to be appreciated. (Don't we all?) They want to feel like we care that they're home, and not just because the toilet won't flush or something needs killed or we need them to watch the kids. I thought Kevin always knew this instinctively. He didn't. He needed my actions and not just my words.