This morning I decided to get a shower. Typically, I don’t shower until Mac’s afternoon nap because well, the mornings can be messy. But today, I decided to throw caution to the wind and get a shower.
Since Mac was sleeping in his room, I decided to use the downstairs bathroom. I turned on the shower but no water was coming out. Although I could hear water running?
Ahhh. It was coming out of the hand-held shower attachment I demanded we install so it would be easier to give the dogs a bath or spray off plants, etc. – which we seldom use. (Insert Husband’s snarky comment here). HOWEVER, apparently Chris did use it for something yesterday after my shower (maybe after his haircut?)
Regardless. . .
I step gingerly into the shower and pick up the hand-held attachment. I twist it. I turn it. I push the little buttons on the side.
Humph. Water is still coming out of it.
Well. . .Perhaps I need to do something to the actual shower head? Twisting. Turning. The hand-held attachment flips sideways and sprays my face at an awkward angle.
Gah! Fuck. What a hassle.
I finally gave up.
And as I was standing there spraying myself off like some kinda’ vegetable in the kitchen sink, I wondered once again what the hell happened to me?
There was a time when I was fiercely independent. I could do ANYTHING. I used to travel alone for work, arriving in some strange city, grabbing a map and a rental car and navigating my way around without so much as a second thought. I used to tackle bizarre projects with positively no hesitation. A pipe in the shit-hole place I rented when I first moved to Baltimore, needs soldering? No problem. I’m on it. Computer on the fritz? I’ve got this.
And now, after almost 6 years of marriage and about 12 years together? I. CAN’T. EVEN. SYNC. MY. OWN. IPHONE.
When we go somewhere, Chris almost always drives. It just feels more comfortable that way.
I just recently learned how to operate the little touch screen thermostat we have. Although, I’m certain my Husband is sorry I learned that trick.
I do not empty the vacuum cleaner. And I seldom take out the trash.
I do not trouble-shoot our wireless printer problems.
I don’t know where the main shut-off for the water in our home is located. Nor do I know which breaker to flip should the hard-wired smoke detectors start going bonkers when I burn a casserole.
I can plunge a toilet. But I don’t.
I have a legal education but if there’s negotiating to be done, I’d rather my husband handle it.
I do 99% of the cooking and probably 85% of the cleaning. My Husband goes to work every morning with a lunch I packed for him.
I sew now forchrissakes!!
Where did I go?!
Until I started reflecting on it this morning, I hadn’t been too concerned about it. I’m happy with my life. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be this way. And I hope my Husband is happy too. And most importantly, I think our child is happy.
Although, I’m wondering if as Mac grows older perhaps these stereotypical gender roles are acceptable? Will he be proud of me for housework and hot meals and running the carpool? Will I just be an afterthought when his very cool Father shows him how to use power tools? Will he grow up thinking he as a male, will have to be the primary wage-earner? Will that influence his career path?
I don’t know. I don’t have any answers. . .
But it probably can’t hurt for me to change a lightbulb one in a while.