January 26, 2007 9:15 AM
Why I don't ask my husband to share my housework
Our garbage disposal died the night before last. Not a cough or sputter. It left this world without warning.
My husband discovered the loss after the kids and I had gone to bed. He spent a couple hours assessing the viability of our dear disposal - checking vital signs like the fuse box and even resorting to mechanical intervention (the emergency red button and a handy wrench) to resuscitate this well-loved member of our household. But to no avail.
He waited until morning to inform the family. The children took it as well as could be expected, trudging off to school buses and exams - leaving me to spend the day with memories of a faithful friend. I found myself during the day forgetting that it was no longer there, turning to share a moment - like dumping the coffee grounds or lemon peels - only to be startled back to the reality of our unexpected loss.
My husband, still in a state of denial, called InSinkErator with our dear disposal's serial number to see what else might be done. He found our faithful disposal had been installed when our house was built in 1991. In other words, to quote from the Coroner of Wizard of Oz,
And she's not only merely dead,
She's really most sincerely dead.
But the Man We Depend On couldn’t linger long on his own personal grief. He had his family to think of. While he could distract himself with work day in and day out, he knew that we would all be coping at home with the constant reminder of our dearly departed.
And so it was that he made a late stop at Home Depot before coming home last night, proudly bearing a new InSinkErator. Though we all acknowledge that our old InSinkErator could never be completely replaced in our hearts, I know I appreciated my hubby’s brave attempt to encourage us all to move on with our lives.
Upon our arrival home from the kids’ rehearsal, we found our brave leader sprawled beneath the kitchen sink with an array of tools and supplies – as well as some gunky goo from the drain pipe – scattered all around.
I must say that moments like this have the effect of a defibrillator on my heart. My life flashes before my eyes – including everything that led me to marry this man – and I feel a stronger and deeper commitment to our marriage and all the years that lie ahead of us.
And then because he is the World’s Greatest Dad, Tripp paused in his work to put the children to bed. Sensitive to the trauma they’d already suffered, he wanted to do his best to help them continue their comfortable routine.
Then – still with an empty stomach – it was back to sprawling beneath the sink, with occasional forays to the computer to research some aspect of transitioning our new member into the family. This process can be a little tricky, but he found InSinkErator to be the most user-friendly site he’d ever seen for the kind of critical information he needed to provide the proper environment and secure the best future for our new disposal.
I did my best to accompany them through the process, but by 11:00 I realized the emotions of the past 17 hours had taken their toll and regretfully left Tripp to carry on on his own.
This morning when the alarm went off at 6:00, I discovered that he’d been up until 1:00 with our new disposal, conscientiously ascertaining that all was completely well with it before thinking of his own need for:
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
~William Shakespeare, Macbeth
Happy woman I, to know that when I turned toward the sink with coffee grinds and lemon peels today, I would not face the sad reminders of what used to be, but a new mouth to feed and relationship to build!
And happy woman, I, to have a man who – no matter the unexpected tragedy that befalls our happy home – turns his face to the future and leads his family courageously there!
And that’s why I cook for him, clean our house, and wash his clothes – without expecting him to do the “woman’s work.” A simple trade for clogged toilets and drains, freak electrical disturbances, and automotive breakdowns – not to mention wood chopping and anything that goes on between the fence and four walls of our home.
Parenting we do together. But though he does like to cook and pitches in with dishes when he can, I don’t expect it. By earning our daily bread and taking care of so much stuff I don’t want to, he’s earned a special place in my heart – and if the man never picks up a sponge or dishtowel for the rest of his life, that’s okay by me!
Posted in Family, Humor, Marriage | Permalink
Comments
I'm not sure whether the urge to giggle or go "Aww" is stronger. This post certainly shows not only your unique sense of perspective, but also the kind of relationship you and your husband must have.
Posted by: Jarred | January 26, 2007 11:05 AM
amen, barbara I'm right there sharing those thoughts! Tripp, well done. We women notice these things. Unimportant to you , important to us.
Posted by: Janet | January 26, 2007 11:21 AM
I completely agree. A fair trade, and one I happily enter into every day! At the beginning of my adventures as a SAHM, Jehromy worried that I wouldn't feel like an equal without a job, so he explained to me that he saw us as a team. Neither of us can do what we do best without the other doing what they do best.
Posted by: Vida | January 26, 2007 11:36 AM
Isn't it great?! I have had many defillibrating moments myself!
And I like the fact that my work - though never done :) - is at least predictable, generally low-impact, and usually done in my own warm and cozy spaces. He gets the crises, like changing a tire on the side of an icy highway or getting a snake out of the basement.
Give me Mt. Laundry any day! :)
Posted by: Melissa | January 26, 2007 2:55 PM
I couldn't agree more. Growing up my mom and dad had these roles and I never knew that is wasn't always this way, until after I was married and had friends ask why my sweetheart didn't do this or this or whatever. I like having my role, it somehow give order to our lives.
Posted by: Shari | January 26, 2007 7:11 PM
What a sad and hopefully inadequate example of your husband's dedication to his family. The "death" of a garbage disposal????
Posted by: Brenda | January 27, 2007 4:33 PM
Brenda:
It's supposed to be funny.
Tripp's faithfully supported a family of 12 including two daughters I brought into the marriage and three sons with Down syndrome we adopted after our 8th child was born with Down syndrome.
Not many men take on that kind of responsibility. And he takes them everywhere. And reads to them every night and sings to them and plays ball with them and coaches Challenger Little League for kids with handicaps.
What a sad and hopefully inadequate example of your humanity that in all this site has to offer you could only say something mean and belittling.
I didn't have to publish your comment, but I will because it is you who looks small.
Posted by: barbara | January 27, 2007 4:46 PM
I didn't have to publish your comment, but I will because it is you who looks small.
And not very bright, either.
Posted by: Amy K. | January 27, 2007 7:12 PM
That is so sweet! My hubby spent five hours yesterday getting our DSL back online and all the files back and everything becasue I'd been out of town all weekend and he kneww I"d have a backlog of computer "stuff" to do.
And he always cleans my filthy van.
so, you are right, I could care less that he doesn't do laundry or dishes (though I admit to a little chagrin that he can't even stack one plate in the dishwasher) because he goes above and beyond with non typical stuff.
Posted by: Marsha | January 29, 2007 9:27 AM
