Beyond the Laundry: Choosing What Really Matters
This year my husband and I celebrated 11 years of marriage. Over that time, life has thrown us more than a few curveballs—his chronic illness being the biggest one. He’s had two organ transplants, and while we’re so grateful for them, the reality is that he often feels tired, nauseous, and drained.
When that happens, I pick up the slack around the house and with the kids. And honestly? It’s easy to get swept up in the tedium of it all. The cooking. The cleaning. The laundry that never ends. It’s not glamorous, but it fills every corner of the day if you let it.
The Trap of Tedium
There were stretches where that’s exactly what I did: let the endless housework take over. I kept rewriting the same to-do list—meals, chores, errands—and at the end of the day, I didn’t feel fulfilled. I felt depleted. And worse, I sometimes felt resentful that my time got eaten up serving everything and everyone at home and at work.
I realized I was missing the point. Yes, clean dishes and folded laundry matter, but they aren’t the memories I’ll carry with me.
Choosing What Matters
Lately, I’ve been practicing something different: intentionally making time for the things that actually matter to me. Things that bring connection, joy, or a sense of purpose.
Doing puzzles with my husband.
Sitting with the kids while they work on homework.
Saying yes to family board games, even when there are dishes in the sink.
Those moments are small, but they’re meaningful. They remind me why I’m doing all the other things in the first place.
The Bigger Picture
The truth is, the chores will always be there. They’ll always refill the Task Bank. But my energy and presence? Those are finite. Every day, I have to decide: will I spend them solely on keeping the house running, or will I invest them in the people and experiences that make life rich?
It’s not perfect—I still get caught up in the laundry. But having tools like The Tackle List helps me pause, reflect, and realign. It reminds me to build days that feel meaningful, not just busy.
Because at the end of my life, I don’t want to be remembered as the woman who was really good at folding towels. I want to be remembered as someone who created connection, joy, and love—even in the middle of all the chaos.
