It happens in households across America every day. It often starts early on in the relationship. Maybe even pre-marriage. But as the relationship grows it becomes more and more prevalent and once children are added to the mix it hits epic proportions. It’s the standoff.
In our house there are a few tasks that have clear assignments of responsibility. If it involves a tool, an automobile a grill or anything related to our yard my husband is on it. If it involves a shopping list, a cleaning solution, a school project or home decor it’s mine. I obviously don’t pretend to be a feminist even if I have breastfed in restaurants.
But then there are all the little things that aren’t always as clear. These include but aren’t limited to:
- Emptying the dishwasher
- Emptying the dish rack
- Changing a diaper
- Turning on the mute button (aka inserting binky) into a fussy baby
- Wiping a big kid bum
In our house last night it went a little something like this: I was busy in the kitchen chopping peppers and onions for fajitas, in between loads of laundry and making lunches for the next day. Husband was on the couch watching TV.
I ignore. He ignores.
I ignore. He ignores. I *sigh* heavily and make lots of busy sounding kitchen noises for good measure.
He mutters something like, “Hon, can you get her…” I pretend not hear.
“Can SOMEBODY PLEEEASE wipe me !!!!!”
Jake, bless his soul, gets increasingly nervous and informs me that his sister needs help. And that’s it. I cave. I wash my hands and off I stomp loudly to the bathroom to wipe my daughters little bum. Then I wash my hands again, stomp back into the kitchen and sigh loudly enough for him to hear me over the TV. Then I lose the ability to think straight because I am so mad.
I know, it’s just a stupid little thing. No need to get so worked up over it. But I’m steaming. And don’t get me wrong, my husband is great. Amazing even. He is the one that feeds, dresses and carts three different kids of in two different directions each and every morning long after I’ve left for work. And he is the one to pick them up, feed them dinner and often even start their bath each and every night long before I return home from work.
But I can’t help myself. I’m steaming. Not because it was such a difficult task or because he never even budged. I’m steaming mad because I’m the one that wiped the bum. I lost. I lost the standoff and I never even had a fighting chance. And so it goes, in households across America. Certainly in mine at least twice a week.
But trust me, my friends, this is one I am NOT going to lose:
How do ya like that?
So whats on your standoff list? C’mon we all have one to share.