I don't joke about my slothiness around my parents or my brother, and they don't even know this blog exists (they wouldn't know how to find it if they did) so they don't necessarily know that I put myself down in this way, but they reveal to me why I do it. My mother told my brother that I had injured my foot and spent the morning in the emergency room, and do you know what my dear brother said? "Poor Rob." Poor who? I spend the entire weekend with my foot bandaged, swapping out ice packs and throwing back the advil, and he says Poor Rob? My mom says Poor Rob too when we're all in Hawaii together and he spends most of the day playing with Leila in the pool while I read magazines and drink mai tais; What about the fact that he loves to goof around in the pool, doing handstands, and playing shark, and throwing Leila in the air, and I love to watch from a reclined position? What about the fact that Leila and I spend all week together and we may need a break from each other, hence the vacation? What about the fact that when Rob decides he's done and wants to reflect sunlight back into the atmosphere off his white chest, I take over, no questions asked? Poor Rob indeed.
Then, last night, I called my mom on the phone and had to kill time talking to my dad, on whom the art of telephone conversation is lost, and when my mom finally came to the phone, I asked her what took so long and she says, "I don't have a husband who does all the dishes, I have to do them myself." Hold on, old woman: I have a man who helps raise his kid and helps maintain his home, and helps his wife with dishes from time to time, and guess what? that's the way it should be for every wife and every mother, and if my mom didn't insist on this during her marriage, and if other women don't insist on this during theirs, that is not my problem, and I refuse to apologize or be made to feel like the lesser partner in my marriage because my husband has been well-trained. As Roseanne said, he did not come out of a box like this. And, by the way, Mom, who raised me to feel so entitled, hmmmm?
So let me be clear about a few things before I continue to brag about what a loser I am most of the time: I do, on average, 90% of everything having to do with this family and this home. I do 95% of the grocery shopping, 90% of the cooking, 85% of the dishes, 97% of the laundry, 90% of the cleaning, 100% of the school-related duties, 97% of the social calendar, 97% of the Christmas preparations, including cards, shopping, wrapping, shipping, cooking, decorating, 95% of dog-related jobs, and most of the cocktail drinking, so that leaves him with roughly 10% helping out. We have agreed that when we are both in the house, chores should be split 50/50, and, accounting for time spent asleep, he is in the house, awake, 44% of the time. Not a bad ratio for him. I did not account for the yard; we ripped almost everything out back there, though, but throw in another 5% on top of his 10% and he's still sitting pretty. Also, I have pointed out to my husband, that a) he spends most of his day seated, while I spend most of my working hours standing; b) he gets a lunch hour and two hours on the bus every day to sit quietly, read, nap, pick his cuticles, whatever he wants; and c) I am in my office on the weekends, and am surrounded by deadlines and to-do lists even when I go to sleep. Not that he complains, he never does, but I felt the need to point this out to him.
I feel better getting that off my chest. Unfortunately, I can't ever win an argument with my mother by proving I have it better than she did, so its no use trying. She grew up with an outhouse and had to make her own maxipads, so she can pretty much shut me up every time. Next time, I'll go back to whining about something, not to worry.