I think we have a pretty old-fashioned marriage in many ways. I do 99 % of the cooking, maybe 85 % of the cleaning and 100% of laundry* in our relationship. I regularly treat my kids to cookies and milk (of course I hardly touch the things myself. Ha!) I consider the home my domain and recognize it as largely my responsibility to create the proper atmosphere here. I don't feel at all offended at the concept of a distinction between woman's work and man's work. As a matter of fact, I occasionally tell Greg to leave the woman's work to me (like when he's doing a bad job of something).
*I'm including the kid's help with hanging laundry and doing chores in my percentage
I love this. I've chosen it and I really love it. I spent all my early life wanting to be a wife and mother. Wanting to care for my husband and our children.
This is why I can never watch Father of the Bride without being a little baffled by Annie's reaction to the gift her fiance gives her. A blender!?! What kind of message is he trying to send!?! I've always thought, "I'm so the opposite of her. I would have loved to get a kitchen appliance and been thrilled to be able to use it to create delicious food for my dearly beloved husband."
But it only takes thinking back a little for me to see my hypocrisy.
It was only a few days before our wedding. We got out of the car at the grocery store and held hands. It was December and freezing so he put our hands in his coat pocket. I could feel that the lining was torn and commented on it.
"I know! In just a few days you can sew it up for me!" he said, with the most charming and affectionate smile.
Based on all my previous thoughts about homemaking and wifely responsibilities and the honor it would be to fulfill them, I should have been as delighted as he seemed to be a the thought. But I wasn't. Not at all.
For some unknown reason I had this sudden rush of horror that he expected me to be some domestic goddess, doing anything and everything he wanted me to; that suddenly our relationship was going to change dramatically from the moment we said the proverbial "I do". (or the less proverbial, "yes". Or was it "I will"? It's been awhile. Note to self: do sealings during temple trip this November)
I'm sure he was as surprised by my reaction as I was. (I didn't quite know what my deal was either). But we made it through that trial and still said our proverbial "I do"s.
After we were married I assured him that, though I lacked skill or practice, I was very happy to sew his pocket for him, despite the fact that I had seemed rather repulsed by the idea only a few days before.
Still, he chose to sew it himself. And from that time till now, Greg does probably 95% of all sewing for our family.
Which makes me wonder if Annie ever ended up using that blender after all, or if maybe he didn't do all the blending from there on out.
This post inspired by Melanie's post today.