In our house, it goes like this:
I cook; he does the washing up.
I organise every aspect of our social lives; he mows the lawn.
I shop; he carries the bags from the car.
I choose what to watch on Netflix; he agrees.
He cleans the bathroom; I do the nit combing.
He pushes the trolley on the beach; and I do the sun cream.
He chops bits of poo off the dog’s bum; and I hoover up glitter.
We have equivalent roles within the household. It’s what keeps us going. Together.
This process of living together in perfect matrimony sounds easy. I can assure you, it is not. Our roles took time to ‘iron out.’ Time, tears and many slammed doors.
Wouldn’t it be so much easier if these roles and expectations of each other were thrashed out before the wedding? In a nice office with a smiling therapist perhaps?
I would have liked to have known, aside from loving, honouring and occasionally obeying, what was expected from me during our everyday life? I would have appreciated a visit to a high rise building where a smartly dressed councillor guided my husband and I through a list of the daily responsibilities of adulthood.
Dishes – Wife
Dustbins – Husband
Bedtime story – Alternate days
Hair in plug holes – Husband
Band-Aids – Wife
Electronic devices – Husband
Splinters – Wife
There, done – All future ‘tiffs’ averted.
I could have skipped out of her door with my list in hand knowing that equality and my rights as a female, were going to be upheld within my home from that day forth.
But instead, we’re left to battle it out. Decipher what role suits who and if the workload is properly shared, because if it’s not, that’s when resentment kicks in and fucks everything up. Bitterness can destroy a marriage. If one person feels they are doing more than the other… animosity will fill up the space where love used to reside. It will be soaked up by the small things, the daily grind, the chores and the minutia of life and all that will be left is a pile of washing and a petty argument over whose turn it is to do the dishwasher.
Real, forever love is about scrubbing the toilet, not about holding hands along the promenade at sunset. It’s about sharing the shit, doing things you hate and making sure your partner isn’t feeling too overwhelmed.
Work and compromise go into running a family. Fairness and equality make it work.
I might not be your perfect archetypal wifey, but even if I refuse to do the washing, I make up for it with something just as boring. I level off the playing field, pick up some toys and change a nappy.
He does the breakfast, I make lunches, he does the drop off and I do pick up.
So, share the load. Make it lighter for each bearer. Don’t succumb to old fashioned expectations … it’s all rubbish. Marriage is about standing shoulder to shoulder through the storm and making sure (in a very non gender specific way) that all roles are equal.
Even if some Cornflakes are stiffening inside a cereal bowl in the sink or my undies have blown from the line onto the top of the rabbit hutch next door, well then, there’s always tomorrow. A new pile of washing and fresh attitude with each day.
My husband and I have learned just to get on with it. Get the shitty jobs done in order to relax, and have quality time as a family.
We bear the load together.
And somehow, we make it through.
Originally published here.
Victoria lives on The Sunshine Coast on the East Coast of Australia. She has three uncontrollable children, a very patient husband and a dog. She’s been sober for 2 years and writes about her zig zaggy journey in her blog –www.drunkmummysobermummy.com. Victoria is currently writing a book about parenting, alcohol and life as a sober mum.
You can follow her (in a non-stalky way) on Instagram and Facebook.
