It didn’t change the reality of how often I did or didn’t do the dishes, but it made a big difference in how much of a toll it took on me to do them. I realized that the dishes need to get done for all our sakes, and sometimes that meant my husband would do it and sometimes it would be me it wasn’t about keeping track of who did it and when. Over time, I started to shed another layer of dish drama. I wasn’t enthused about it, at all, and while I was doing the dishes with this mindset, I’d spend a lot of my mental energy thinking things like “Scott is working like crazy at the moment to support us,” or, “ He doesn’t value cleanliness in the same way I do, but since it’s more important to me, so I’ll just do it.” It was an improvement, but I was still spending a lot of energy on rationalizing why it was OK that I was doing the dishes. So I started accepting that sometimes I did the dishes. And while I still prefer that my husband do his fair share of the cleaning, my feeling either defeated or ticked off wasn’t serving anyone. So I thought about it and realized, having the dishes done is important to me. 🙂 I did not want to fight with him and I knew he wasn’t trying to torture me. Now, I’d like to make it clear that I do love my husband.
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Once or twice I said things to this effect to him, and we had a big fight that didn’t leave either of us feeling any better. “This is wrong and you are a jerk!” I’d think to him in my mind. I still did the dishes many nights, but now I did it noisily, hating my husband in my head. “Why do I have to do all the work around here? Why doesn’t anyone else care if our house is a mess?” It was pretty pathetic. Here’s what typically happened: I would start doing the dishes, hastily, feeling sorry for myself all the way.
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He actually says, “I come from a long line of soakers.” Which is code for, “Sometimes I do the dishes, sometimes I just stick them in the sink.” Which means I’d emerge from putting the kids to bed and often see the kitchen in the exact same state as I had left it. Perfectly reasonable, right? The thing is, my husband is a soaker. My husband and I had a basic understanding – whoever cooks doesn’t do dishes. Because my kids were small and needed to be in bed by about 7 or else they were total basket cases, I wanted the preparation and the consumption to happen in a timely manner. And then, there were the dishes. In part because I’d worked so hard, I stressed about how much of this food actually made it in my kids’ mouths.
Dinnertime used to be my least favorite part of the day, for a gazillion reasons – I wanted our meals to be as healthy and delicious as possible and so I knocked myself out to make meals that dazzled.
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