Department of Labor

There was a show on Wisconsin Public Radio Tuesday on men and housework. Most of the discussion (what I heard, anyway) was about how couples talk about how many kids they'll have/not have, whether either parent will stay home with said kids, religion, even money, but not about the division of labor in the household. I'll admit that we fall into that category. Okay, we didn't discuss religion other than agreeing that it's not really our thing but if the kids are into it, fine. We've mostly fallen into a gender-defined pattern, he works the paying job, I do the homefront stuff. We have a cleaning lady come once a week, and I think Husband would give up his beer money before he'd let her go. Correction: I'd force him to give up his beer money before we'd let her go. Luckily it's not a decision we have to make. Having someone come do the general big stuff every week makes both our lives better. I don't have to clean the toilets and he doesn't have to hear me bitch about cleaning the toilets.

But we never did discuss the division of labor in the household. To be honest, it never occured to me to do so. We just fell into a routine of cleaning like frenzied crackheads whenever we got too freaked out about how trashy the place looked, and basically left it at that.

When we moved out to our new place, it was essentially the same: doesn't look too bad, let's ignore it. Wait. The place looks like hell. Let's do something about it. Then I went on maternity leave and it got bad for a while. I was too miserable to do much cleaning and never got nesty, alas.

Now I'm home with both kids and I'd say, I think without fear of contradiction, that I do the bulk of the cleaning that Jeannete doesn't do. I do most of the laundry, sweep and/or vacuum between Fridays (unless Husband runs the Roomba), dishes, etc. I don't mind, really; it's just part of my job, like dealing with assholes is part of Husband's.

I know that the place could be cleaner. Wait. No, it's clean, it's just not tidy. It could for sure be tidier. We're both terrible pilers. We had a lenght of countertop at least 10 feet long until we built our pantry, and the only thing we used it for was to hold up our massive piles of shit. So we got rid of it and put the shit behind the pantry doors. Problem solved! So, yeah, it could be tidier, but with a toddler and newborn on the scene, it's not realistic without endangering my sanity. What little remains of my sanity.

What kills me is that no matter who does the cleaning, when guests come over, if the woman sees clutter or dirt, her automatic reaction is (probably, I don't want to speak for everyone, just most everyone) is that the woman in the relationship doesn't keep house very well. It's almost enough to make me want to be that Crazy Cleaning Lady. But then I'd have to cut down on my Internets. AhaAHAhaAHahahaAHAHAahaha!

I'm a housewife. I'm actually okay with that, though I think may prefer Domestic Engineer or Head of Production and Education at P. Companies or some other kicky euphamism (I just turned to Husband and asked, "What's that word that you use when you want to... here just read this." My brain is melting!). I do wish, from time to time, that I were better at it, either than I had the training as a child/teen, or the general inclination to be better at it, but I don't. I don't think my marriage or children suffer for it, at least I hope not, but the urge to try to change surfaces now and again. I can generally smother it with chocolate.