Remember the blog I wrote about wanting (needing) Bill to help out more with the chores? (If you missed it, you can read it here: How Much Does Your Partner, Spouse or Significant Other Help With Chores.) I wanted to give you an update on how things are going in the McGinnis house since that post. (I promise not to keep beating this dead horse but I really need to vent!)
While I'd like to tell you that things are much improved and Bill is helping out more, I can't. When it comes to chores, our situation is not any better and if you can believe this, it may actually be a little worse.
Before I tell you what has me so irritated, keep in mind that I love my husband very much and know I am lucky to have him. He has many wonderful traits. He buys me flowers and candy, never forgets our anniversary (which I have been guilty of), works hard, is a great father has never told me no when I wanted to try something new (leave a good job and good salary to write and work from home for lower pay) and has offered an unbelievable amount of support at some of my crazy ideas and plans. In spite of all that good stuff, we still don't see eye-to-eye on on chores. Here's what happened earlier this week:
Every Tuesday, Bill golfs after work and I go to the gym. Typically he gets home around 6 pm, about 30 minutes before me. When I got home last Tuesday he was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper (because golfing with your buddies is stressful and you need to relax after a game.) He looked up, said hello and asked me what was for dinner. The answer was nothing. You want to know why there was nothing for dinner? Because I spent the day working, just like him. In addition, I was busy emptying the dishwasher, folding and putting away the laundry, pulling weeds out of the flower beds, running the sweeper, making homemade spaghetti sauce out of the mountain of tomatoes from our garden so they didn't go to waste and cleaning two of the three bathrooms in our house. I think I actually expended less energy during the time I was at the gym.
|Unfortunately, this is not what I saw when I got home on Tuesday.|
And speaking of the gym, I suppose I could have skipped it. What was I thinking being so indulgent! Instead of exercising, I could have gone to the grocery store, bought a few items, cooked dinner and waited for Bill to get home. While dinner was cooking I could have cleaned that third bathroom. Or – and here's a nice little idea – Bill could have stopped at the grocery store on his way home from golf, picked up a bag of hot dog buns (there are always hot dogs in our freezer) thrown them on the grill, opened a bag of potato chips and we could have had a nice dinner on the patio. It's not hard or time consuming. I've been doing it that way every Tuesday for months! (After I explained that, Bill went downstairs claiming he was going to clean the garage. Of course we all know he was just trying to escape my bitching.)
What really bugs me is that, in spite of 20 years of “discussion” on the subject (some becoming a little heated), I'm still the one who is expected to buy the groceries and get dinner on the table every night. Does it really never occur to him to make dinner once a week...or even once a month. Hell, I'm shooting for once a year at this point!
I certainly didn't intend for this to be pick-on-Bill-week and I admit, I've taken a few shots at him recently. (Is Your Husband a Big Baby When He's Sick?) but I don't think I'm being unreasonable in expecting him to help out around the house, be a little more considerate and stop thinking of me as the hired help!
And in case you're curious, that cold didn't hurt his golf game. He shot a 44 – a personal best.