Melatonin wore off at 1:10 am. So I laid there. Trying to close my eyes and relax to get back
to sleep, but the air in the room was warm, and my thoughts were running a
million miles a minute. I had way too
much to do in the morning. Then it occurred
to me that it wasn't just tomorrow.
Everyday had too much to do.
If you can picture someone in the ocean, trying to swim,
breathe and stay above the waves day in and day out, that is how I felt in that
moment. Frantic, anxious, and praying
someone would take the load off, for just a while.
I thought about my mother.
She tried to be all things to all people. She lost her health and her life. I thought about other women I know that tried
to do the same; be a wife, mother, work outside the home, and still keep a
1950's household standard. They are all
battling mental and physical ailments and weight issues.
I finally went back to sleep moving my dream from the dark
and stormy part of the sea, to the land where the waves gently lapped up on the
shore and frothed around my toes. The
sun was warm and inviting. I allowed myself
to stop thinking.
Tuesday, my husband went fishing with a friend while I drove
three and half hours, did deliveries, and sat in DMV to register the replacement
vehicle we had just leased. By the time
I got home I was done. I didn't want to
do anything else, but then my husband asked "What are you going to make
for dinner." I told him
hamburgers. He seasoned the meat while I
prepared the sides. One of the sides,
the brown rice, he was not keen on. He
let me know over the course of 10 minutes.
It occurred to me in that time; my mother figures lied to
me, all of them. They didn't have it
all. They didn't have a social
life. They didn't take care of
themselves. While he was giving me grief
about steaming things in plastic bags, I was breaking the notion I had to do
everything. "Oh, you don't like
what I cooked?" I asked. My eyes were
a mixture of white anger and vibrant clarity. "Good news! YOU can make
dinner tomorrow." He didn't like that at all. That was a classic case of "tough
luck" as my mom would say. What he didn't know is that it wasn't just
cooking he was about to do.
Previously, I had been petrified of breaking our marriage
covenant because I didn't want to be single, and I didn't want my kids to go
between households. Kids survive change.
They probably would be less okay if I became an alcoholic, or addicted to pills
that numb the depression that was creeping in. I decided that I am worthy of a
break. I am worthy of getting help. I
printed out the forms on-line just in case he didn't want to live with woman
that emerged from the cocoon after 16 very long years.
That night, I gave myself permission to fight back. And I did.
There are ways I would be spoken to in the future, and the little
incident earlier wouldn't be repeated under any circumstance. I let my family know that THEY were each going
to take over 20% of my work load. I am going to live. I am going to get to relax. I am going to
have a clean house. And I am not going
to be a slave to any decade's standards for women. If I am working the same number of hours as
my husband, I am sure as shooting not going to be the only one that knows how
to mop the kitchen floor.
I made a comprehensive list of everything I do, from
household inventory to office and warehouse inventory. Even the prep work of meals, and vacuuming
were written down. If it took time out
of my day, I wrote it down.
Right now, my oldest is folding clothes, and my husband is
planning dinner. The kitchen is clean, the dishes are done, and the trash is
out. I loaded the washer, and started
the dishwasher. Everyone put in their
dishes, and picked up around them.
My husband said that he wasn't going to do anything on his
"long" days. I explained he
didn't need to worry; he could complete his chores on any of the other 6 days
in the week. He mumbled something about a "conspiracy against men." You have to laugh at that. The last 70 years have been a conspiracy against women. Keep us thinking we can "have it all" when we are really killing ourselves literally and figuratively.
I work with my husband. We put in the same hours. We work together 24/7/365. So, explain why I am doing all the housework again while he catches up on "his shows?" New rule, when I get to rest in the evening, so do you. No one gets more down time than the other. This is either a partnership in all things, or it is going to be nothing at all.
He chose the chore list over divorce papers. He made a great decision. I am going to be an even better wife, mother,
and co-worker now that I don't have as much to do. I can focus my energy and spare time (I am
getting that as of now!) on things that make me happy. Happy wives are great lovers. Just sayin'…
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