We have all heard of the 80/20 rule right?
When it comes to our closet: we wear 20% of our clothes 80% of the time.
When it comes to business: 80% of your sales comes from 20% of your clients.
When it comes to your spouse: he is 80% of the man of your dreams.
How does this pertain to being a pilot wife? Funny you should ask, because the inspiration for this post just happened the other day. Steve, my pilot husband, is a wonderful husband. He really is. Having said that, he is still only 80% of the man of my dreams? Why not a full 100%, you ask?
Because of this...
Let me set the scene: this is our bathroom. Please note that this bathroom is circa 1980 something and I had nothing to do with designing this space. We bought the house 2 years ago and have: put on a new roof , installed a new furnace and A/C, put in new windows, added a new sidewalk (did you know how expensive concrete is?!), fixed a sinking screened porch, added new flooring throughout our entire house (hardwood and carpet), painted/wallpapered each and every inch of the house (well, aside from the master bath), dealt with our well issues...I could go on. Cha-ching! When our checkbook breathes a bit - then we can talk a new master bath.
Ok, where was I? Oh, the bathroom. The picture shows exactly what I saw when I walked into our bedroom the other afternoon.
I had just come home from a lovely bridal shower. While I was at the shower my aunt came to watch the kids since Steve had to leave for work. When I got home, I went upstairs to change and I about threw a fit. I am sure Steve could hear my scream 30,000+ feet away.
I can get past the ironing board and the iron. Fine, Steve isn't the best at time management and I bet that since I wasn't home when he was leaving for work, he may not have allocated enough time to get ready. Plus, Steve never keeps the iron and ironing board out. This is actually a rare sight, so I can throw him a bone on this one.
What I can't get past are the damn hangers. Oh, the DAMN HANGERS!
Here is how the hangers get where they are: Steve will iron his uniform, hang his pants and shirt on the hangers, hang the hangers on the doors locks, and then get in the shower. He will get out of the shower, pull the clothes off the hangers...and then leave the damn hangers on the damn door.
After seeing the hangers and the ironing board set up, I walked into the bathroom to find this wonder:
If I HAD to guess, I would say that this is the tie he wears 80% of the time. I imagine that Steve put it around his neck, only to find a big hole/tear/stain. Remember, parts of his uniform are one bad move from total destruction. I think this tie may have bitten the dust.
I also need to add that I am no fool...I know that I am 80% of the woman of Steve's dreams. I am okay with that. Why am I not 100% the woman of his dreams? Because of this:
What you are looking at is our mudroom cubbie/shoe area. "Hi, my name is Joanna and I don't always put my shoes where they are supposed to go." Steve HATES this about me. I mean really...he hates that I leave my shoes wherever they fall off my feet: the kitchen, the porch, the garage, the bedroom, the bathroom... He thinks I "disrespect" him when I do this. Serious stuff people - no joke.
If you take a close look at the picture you will note that the majority of the shoes out are actually kids shoes. Although, what adult wouldn't love a pair of pink crocs with ladybugs on them! So, I can't take blame for those. But, I am sure that if Steve saw this his blood would boil.
It is my role as a mother to direct the kids to put their shoes in their proper place, I get that. But, it is also my role as a mother, when my pilot husband is away, to keep the kids safe, happy, healthy and fed. The last thing on my mind, after working a 7-hour day...only to start an evening of dinner, clean up, play time, bath time, washing clothes time, book time, bed time, vacuuming time, is to tell the kids where to put their shoes. And then when I finally get a second to think about it, which isn't until after the kids are down for the night, I am just too tired from being go-go-go that I just let the shoes go until later.
There is no faster way to drain Steve's love tank then have him walk into the mudroom, after a long four days, with shoes strewn about everywhere. This would equal instant bad attitude. Which, would then lead to "welcome home honey...now go back to where you came from."
This mess will be cleaned up by the time Steve gets home. No question. I know better. I have lived and learned. This, my friends, is what I am talking about when I say make your home a happy place for your pilot to come home to. These are the little things I do for Steve that I know will make him happy.
Now, if only I can train him to put those damn hangers away 100% of the time...