Monday Morning Confession
June 4, 2010 
The past couple weeks, Mr. Blue Eyes has been working longer days than usual, plus he got himself a nasty softball injury sliding to catch a ball, then sliding again into third base (think blood, major scrape, oozing, swelling, yuck... don't worry, I won't offend you with any pictures) so he's been a bit gimpy and trying to keep his leg up when he can.
Which is almost never.
But what I'm getting at is that he hasn't been around and/or able to help me out as much. It's all good. I'm not super woman or anything, but I think I'm holding down the fort alright. The thing is, though... I've had to do my own dishes a little bit.
I haven't told you this.
I haven't told you, somewhere along the line a few months back, I convinced him to do the dishes.
Pretty much all the time.
I haven't told you because I'm afraid that some of you, whose husbands won't touch the dishes, might come after me with torches and rocks and think I'm some sort of witch who has cast a spell upon her husband to do the dishes.
Don't hate me! Don't be afraid of me! I'm not a witch!
Let me sell you tell you my side of the story.
A few months back, when this all came about, I was feeling overwhelmed. I can't even remember the circumstances at the time. All I remember is that I was feeling overwhelmed, like I had a lot on my plate (which was dirty at the time because I never had time to wash them), and perhaps this would be a way for him to help me out. While squeezing in other tasks around the house here and there throughout the day worked out fine, between taking care of the kids and such, it was downright hard to get the dishes done. I'd run a sink full of hot water, wash a few, then someone would need help going potty. Then someone would need me to read them a story. Then someone would need juice. Someone would need, need, need.
If you've got kids, you know.
And pretty soon, the water was cold, and I had to start over. And over. And over. And before I knew it, it was 3 o'clock in the afternoon and all I'd accomplished (other than tending to the kids) for the day was a futile attempt at dish washing. I almost dreaded cooking, because not only would I spend two hours preparing food, but also another hour or more washing the dishes afterward.
Oh, did I forget to mention that we don't have a dish washer?
Yeah, we don't. There wasn't one here when we moved in, and maybe someday we'll get one, but for now we don't. There are reasons why, but that's a whole other post. And I convinced my hubby to do the dishes anyway, so what do I need a dish washer for?
So, back to how I did the convincing...
I really don't mind washing dishes, and I pull my weight around here, so it wasn't that I was trying to take advantage of my wonderful husband or anything. It just made sense to me, if there was one task that he could take responsibility for on a regular basis, it would be the dishes. Because doing the dishes is a constant need. And it's also something that requires no folding (he practices a bundle and wedge system when it comes to laundry... doesn't go over well with me), no organizing (think putting away clothes and toys, keeping closets nice and tidy, etc...) other than putting things in the usual place they always go, and he's good at it. And he likes to eat the Farmer Gal's cookin', so facilitating time for me to cook was added incentive.
It also keeps his workin' man hands nice and soft for when he gives me massages, but we won't get into that.
For my part, I make sure to scrape and rinse off all the dishes throughout the day so that they're pretty easy to wash. I also try to minimize the number of dishes I use when I'm cooking. And I help to put them away.
And you know what?!?
It's working!!! It frees me up to handle other things around the house, and it puts my mind at ease because I know that he'll take care of the dishes when he comes home at night, and I won't wake up the next morning to a growing pile of scuzzy dishes. He knows exactly what he can do to help me out, and he's pretty fast at it. While he's doing dishes in the evening, I toodle around the house and pick up, dust, fold, etc...
I just felt compelled to come clean about how it is my dishes come clean.
It was bothering me.
I felt as if I was keeping it a secret.
Because I was... Keeping it a secret. It was my dirty little clean dish secret.
But now I realize how good it feels to come clean.
I also realize that this post may elicit mixed feelings, from both wives and husbands. Husbands: If your wife is now coming after you to do the dishes, I am sorry. Wives: If you are now trying to convince your husband to do the dishes on a regular basis, you go girl!
See how I just played both sides there?
Anyhow, since Mr. Blue Eyes is burning the candle at both ends, I do have to trot off and do my own dishes now. Feel sorry for me, will you?
No?
Fine.
Reader Comments (3)
Every once in awhile my sweet man will do the dishes and vacuum. :) To do it everyday, wow, would be simply heaven!
We were stationed in Kansas for a while, at Ft Riley. We lived in a small town about 30 miles off base, boy do I miss it! Anyway, while we were there we didn't have a dishwasher. And I was pregnant. And I used way to many dishes because of all my pregnancy cravings. When we moved to New York, I refused to live in a home without a dishwasher. And have insisted on that ever since. I still have a sink full of dishes though. I wonder why...
P.S. Hope your husband starts to feel better! I hate those icky sports injuries! They are soooo nasty!
In my retirement years here in the mountains, I've appreciated my "Vernmore" dishwasher (after having a Kenmore before)! It is truly wonderful.