I am normally the one to do the washing, most of the cooking, to notice when the carpet needs hoovering and the surfaces dusting, etc, etc, – i.e. I do most of the household chores. I have managed over the last 12 months to get K more involved in cooking but it’s very sporadic and that’s mainly due to work. I tend to be the one to pick the kids up so am normally home before him (working, but I am home) and so it makes sense for me to make a start (and normally finish) cooking dinner.
Sometimes I get fed up with this situation and wonder what would happen if I just didn’t.
Didn’t do any of it.
I have quite a lot of underwear; I have enough clothes (although I wear the same things all the time) to keep me going.
I would probably struggle with the food side of things but I could have a bigger lunch.
I sometimes have a mini-rant and ask – usually starting with “polite request…..could you all….” – and it is met with sorrys and promises of more help and more thoughtfulness. It doesn’t ever really last.
I know that this is very common and for aeons women have borne the responsibility of most of the household tasks. But really, does that make it right? I am not saying I am going to down tools – lets face it I am far too conformist for that. I don’t really like rocking the boat. I liked to think, as a teenager, that I could be edgy, with my BUAV t-shirts and my short hair. Still have the short hair but the t-shirts are long gone, as are most of my principles.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I would love to be a bad-ass. To not worry about whether anyone has a clean shirt for school tomorrow. To reply, when asked what is for dinner, “you tell me!” To just say “tough” or “sorry no can do” when someone needs a lift home from somewhere or K needs help with something on the laptop. Sometimes, being the one who does it all, who doesn’t make any fuss, just quietly gets on with it, is a bit crap.
I know they appreciate me. I know I make them feel secure, happy, loved, cared for, safe: all those things that a mum should make them feel. But sometimes, just sometimes, I would like to be someone a bit less conscientious. Just for a day.
I’d probably hate it. I don’t really like bad-asses. They scare me a bit.
I am lucky enough to be going away ON MY OWN this weekend – well overnight, in reality 30 or so hours actually way – so maybe I will recharge, miss them all and be glad to be home. To sort the washing out.