I hate it. The idea of unequal roles irritates me to no end. Two years ago I would never have believed that it would come to this. The work load with my son will never be equally shared between my husband and I, and although I wish it weren’t true, I have finally come to terms with it. “It will never be 50/50,” my husband said the other night, and as the words were coming out of his mouth I believed him.
It had been a bad day. Picking and arguing over who did what, and what didn’t get done, and why hadn’t it gotten done. Frustration from both of us. At the end of the night we sat down and finally attempted to solve a very unsolvable problem. “I just need you to see what needs to be done and do it,” I said. “If I tell you what has to be done, than it is like I am the one creating the work, when really it is just something that has to get done”. After going back and forth about dividing undividable roles my husband finally proclaimed the inevitable truth. It. Will. Never. Be. 50/50.
I have fought this notion since my son was born, and have realized that after a good fight, I am just not going to win. I chose to stay at home and raise my son and with this choice came some automatic side effects.
- My son always wants me
- I know what my son wants as soon as he wants it
- I know his schedule better
- I can calm him much faster
- Did I mention my son always wants me
Now none of the above are excuses for my husband to not pitch in. I will always fight that fight until the day I die, however they are things to consider when arguing for equal rights in the child-rearing department, and are often strong forces that move me to be the one who takes over. The one who plans the day ahead of time. The one who packs all the snacks and diapers. The one he clings to most of the time. Yes, my husband can pack a damn snack, but is it the first thing he thinks of when we are going somewhere? Nope. Is it my first thought when going somewhere? Yup.
I am not certain how this new-founded belief is going to play out in our home (especially when I despise the idea, but also know in my heart that it’s true). Perhaps it will not work at all, or maybe it will prove me wrong and be great. What we were doing wasn’t working, and so finally succumbing to this notion might just be the answer.
My strategy is to pack the stupid snack. To not to be resentful about the fact that I always pack the dumb snack. To see it as something that just comes easier and more naturally to me and do it happily. There certainly are so many things that my husband does with never-complaining automaticity. I love this man and keeping tabs is just not healthy. I will always do more work in the child-rearing area of our life, but it is also the most rewarding work I could do.