By Tracee Sioux

Produce, produce, produce.

My husband and I tend to be workaholics sometimes. I constantly feel like I'm under pressure to get everything done. Especially since having another baby and working from home. I just feel like there is not enough time to do everything I need to be doing. I'm loving the work, and love being fed from this source of energy, but I'm imposing all this pressure to market and make the work profitable right now.

I found myself starting to wonder how long I can keep up this pace. It's only July and Ainsley isn't in school until September. My kids are sick of entertaining themselves and bored. Yet, I feel so newly driven, It feels great to be driven by my writing again. It is fantastic to feel passionately and write passionately.

But, it's the balance that is in question. I started to wonder when I'll ever get a break. When I'll ever have a moment to relax and just be.

Yesterday, the sermon was on the Sabbath. I thought, Well duh, the being and the resting is built right in if you would just listen! It's always been there. You're the one who has decided to ignore it.

While I am now late in publishing my blogs and haven't been to work out this morning and feel totally behind in my week. I also feel like stopping the productivity for one day really provided some perspective about balance.

I don't want my kids to feel so driven that they can't rest. I want them to understand and value a work ethic, but not at the cost of everything else.

It's funny how when you're a kid things like naps feel punitive. My daughter throws a massive fit at the mention of a nap (Zack still loves them). Keeping the Sabbath Day Holy was a big deal in my house growing up. I guess that did feel punitive and restricting to me then.

Now though, it's like free day, gift from God day, no pressure day, lazy rest day. My favorite day.

By Tracee Sioux

We had a fabulous time over Memorial Day weekend when a very generous friend offered to let us stay at her bed and breakfast for three days. It was super-glorious. We were so grateful we couldn’t help inviting a few friends over to share it and made it a lovely party. It got me to thinking about who does the domestic or social labor, men or women?

When my extended family socializes or have parties it is literally exhausting hard labor for the women. My grandmother, aunts and mom will cook for days. They are the last to sit down and when the eating is over the women are the ones to clean up. As a child I just accepted this as a matter of course. The women did the work in the home.

As an adult, however, I am one of the women expected to work my butt off. As an adult I’ve come to realize how exhausting putting on Sunday dinner is. It’s a day of rest for the men, but a day of hard labor for the women. As a little girl everyone in our family had to clear their own plates from the table, except my father, he was treated as a pampered prince because he was the man and “brought home the money,” my mother would explain. Well, women are bringing home much of the money in today’s society, but we’re still doing more than our share of the domestic labor.

I don’t resent the work to create a hospitable party. I resent the men sitting there taking it for granted that it’s the woman’s job. I can’t change my extended family, but I’m straight up with my daughter that it’s the wrong attitude and it’s unfair.

When I throw a party or get ready for company my husband pitches in. He is expected to help me clean for company, prepare the food and to clean up after the party. Why shouldn’t he really?

I think we're in a a girl revolution and we, their parents, are the transition generation. It’s not too easy to convince my 50-year-old uncle that it’s his job to clean up after dinner as much as it is mine. However, my daughter can see that I expect my husband to help in the same social situations. This way, by the time she’s grown up she’ll know that it’s within her rights to expect her husband to help with the domestic chores.