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He Lives in This House Too

This post is inspired by a current (and ongoing) thread on feminism, where members battle out the pros and cons of pre and post modern era and its effect on women. Read more here, it is called “The War on Men“.

It used to be that upon getting married, a girl would put her years of practice in her mother’s home to good use in her own. From the moment that the glass breaks under the chuppah, the (usually) young lad becomes the man of the house. What he said was what went down. The wife had to clean, cook, scrub and serve without so much of a break… Well, perhaps a break to give birth and then before a blink of an eye, she gets right back into it all. If the husband wanted chicken, he got the whole chunk of it and if he wanted fish, he got it plated up by the time he came home from work. The working or learning man would come home in the evening to fresh supper, a clean house, warmed up slippers, and a quiet room to relax.

Fast forward to my home in 2012. I roll out of bed at 8 am, when my husband wakes me up to tell me that he is leaving for work after making my son a bottle and putting him to play  and often, changing his pamper too. I shower, dress myself and my son, and then we eat breakfast. After a morning rush of supper preparations and a quick wipe down, we rush off to babysitter/work. At 6 pm, we run home to be greeted by my just-arrived-home husband. He takes the baby while I hastily finish the supper that was supposed to be done in the morning. If I am lucky, it is in the crock pot, and if I am lazy I just make pasta and cheese. Then, together we eat, feed the baby, bathe him and put him to sleep. At this point, we are supposed to clean up, wash up and do any folding/washing that is waiting for us. More often than not, we chill out until late at night and then hurriedly, we do a quick clean up and head to bed – to repeat the whole cycle again the next day.

So it is no wonder I dream for a cleaner to do the ‘nitty gritty’ things for me, as my stove and my oven need more tender loving care than I have to give them. After all, I have a husband and a son, don’t they deserve the love more?

I ask my husband, my brother in law, my father and my cousin, do they really wish it was like the good ole’ days? When all they had to do was sit, work, sleep and be waited on hand and foot at all times?

Of course there was the joking, “yes if only I could relax” remarks. However, ironically, they all agreed that they would be bored. Yes. Bored. Sometimes I guilt myself for making him work too hard, at other times, I think I am not working him hard enough. It is then that I say that we are a couple and we are in this together, so let him get down and join me in scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees – yeah as if ;).