This is not my original post. Originally I wanted to write a lighthearted post making fun of my pre-teen self, but my mood isn’t quite right for that. Instead, I’m going to comment on my marriage; or rather, a part of my marriage.
I have been taking my husband for granted. I’ve been wandering around completely oblivious to this (glaringly obvious) fact until it smacked me square in the face today. HB works from before sunup to somewhere between just before sundown to well after it. A lot of what he does requires him to be out in the blistering heat. [The heat index here is well into the 100s–high 30s low 40s for my Celsius friends]
I, currently, do not have a job. [Good vibes, please, I’ve applied for a library position] There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a stay-at-home wife, as long as you’re pulling your own weight. Meaning: you’re doing things that benefit your family, be it cleaning the house, running errands, taking care of kids, or what-have-you. (I’m not not one to tell you what benefits your family. That’s your business) I have been doing the bare minimum and then piling all the things I don’t like or want to do on HB. I have been expecting him to do the things that I am beyond capable of doing (I’ve got nothing but time, honestly). Expecting him to help around the house is acceptable, but expecting him to work all day and then turn around and do things I purposely ignored all day for the internet is a little much.
What made me come to this realization? We’ve had a massive, growing pile of dishes sitting in the sink and on the counter for several days now, an almost over flowing trashcan, and an exploding laundry basket of clothes waiting to be folded. I ask that HB does the dishes since I cook most of the time, but every once in a while he’s just too tired to do them. Not a big deal; however, I will refuse to do them. Why? I’ve got the time. It doesn’t hurt me to do them. I’ve volun-told him to fold the clothes, because I hate folding clothes…and I’m lazy. He took on the trash (THANK GOODNESS! It smells like death). Again, I have plenty of time. I need to my shoulder my own weight. HB is getting to a point in his career where he isn’t going to be home every night. What then? Let everything pile up until he gets home? Yeah, no. I’ve got to suck it up, buttercup, and get to work
I do not believe a partner should force you to do housework, or anything, really. You shouldn’t be shamed into it, guilt tripped, or physically forced. If that’s happening you and your partner might need to talk, or you need to seek help and get out of that situation. However, I do believe you should both work to provide for your family. That doesn’t always mean what you provide has a monetary value to it (it should, but that’s another topic). You’re part of a partnership, and that requires work from both of you (or all of y’all if you’re polyamorous). Shoving all the work onto one person, like I’ve been doing, will ultimately lead to hurt feelings, resentment, or a broken marriage if it becomes worse.
Basically, it’s wise to check-in every once in a while to make sure you’re both happy and that each other are content with your contributions to the relationship. Or, just self-assess like I’ve done and adjust accordingly. But do be careful that no one takes on too much.