Pay Day

Originally uploaded by laundrylessons.

A ceramic dish sits on top of my dryer, waiting to be filled. It holds dryer treasures – the stuff left at the bottom after the last sock is removed. Today, the dish holds: a soccer ball shaped eraser, six hair clips, a rubber lizard and the most exciting part, $6.83. If money comes through the wash, it’s mine. The kids know not to touch the cash in the dish. It is used when I need a tip for the pizza guy, or kid needs field trip money as they’re running out the door. Now I’m not so cold hearted to swipe Graham’s birthday twenty if he forgets to take it out of his pocket, but all other cash is my pay day.

Stay at home moms lose the sensation of taking home an envelope every other Friday, with the feeling that, “Ahh, yes, someone appreciates me enough to pay me.” My sister used to call report card day her pay day. I think of it as more of a performance review day. But it would be nice if the teacher passed me a couple bucks since my kids didn’t clog the toilets or call the recess teacher a hog.

So I like to look at the cash in the dish. Because my family forgets to say, “Thanks for folding my socks,” or “Mom, I really appreciate the great meals you make,” the money feels like a little reward.

This past week I realized who really doesn’t get paid enough – single moms. John was gone for the longest he’s ever been away – eight days in South Carolina. Feeding Merritt all her meals, driving to every practice, tucking all four children in bed, AND taking out the trash, was killing me by day five. I said to Renee, my single-mom friend, “I have so much respect for you. I don’t know how you do it.” The look on her face told me I’d just given her a pay day.