I am a spiteful wife. I watched in blissful contentment while my husband fried bacon, whipped up french toast and chased children around the kitchen. The counters are covered in last nights party mess on top of which the breakfast chaos has been piled. The food has been eaten and now there is work to be done in the back yard, which means my husband is skipping down the back stairs and leaving me alone in the house. I guess my spitefulness has caught up to me. I have to clean up the mess my husband made while I sat in blissful contentment. Hmmm. Maybe I should have helped when I had the chance.
Now my children are covered in sticky syrup and are bouncing on a sugar high. We are heading out to do groceries the three of us. I see mayhem in my future. At least I have gotten out of helping lay the sod in the back yard and the concrete patio. Maybe the back yard would be less adventurous compared to the fruit and veggie section of Safeway with two todders in tow.
Although my husband is very progressive in his views on marriage and parenting, I still find that I do the majority of the house work. I don’t know why this is. I wish it were different. I wish he did more laundry and would vaccum the floor and scrub the toilet without having to be asked….three or four times. I don’t know why it is that the interior of our house falls to me to keep in order, while the outside fall on his shoulders. I consider myself pretty lucky to have a guy who is so hands on with the kids and is capable of cleaning. I guess I want it. I want my husband to work a full day and then come home to finish the laundry I started and wash the floors I just vaccumed and then to thank me for the wonderful supper I have cooked and quickly clean up the kitchen so it is spotless while I read a book or have a bath. Is this too much to ask? Oh, in my perfect world it would be bliss.
