Division of Labor

My husband and I have the same argument about once a week over what day is it. I remind him it’s Thursday and that he needs to roll the trash and recycle bins to the curb. He looks at me incredulously, “It can’t be Thursday!”

“Aaaaand, yet it is…” 

“No, it can’t be,” he resists.

“Umm… still Thursday.”

“No! I just can’t believe it”

“Believe, damnit!” 

This usually goes on for a while and the next morning, he still leaps out of bed upon hearing the rumble of the garbage trucks… passing our house because there are no garbage bins or recycling to pick up.

They were never rolled to the curb because someone… ahem, ahem… couldn’t deal with the reality of THURSDAY!

Well, except for the the mornings when he just sleeps through it.

So this week, tired of the stink and tower of milk jugs and junk mail, my son and I tackled the job for him. While helping to sort the paper from the plastic, my son asked, “Mommy… Why is the recycle bin so full?”

“Because it’s Daddy’s job to empty the bin and he forgets sometimes.”

To which my bold little boy replied, “Maybe it should be your job then.”

I laughed and reminded him that Mommy already has lots of jobs.

“Like what?” he pressed on.

(Deep sigh) “Well… I take care of you and your sister. I cook your meals and pick up the house. I make sure you have a clean uniform to wear to school and that you have a lunch and snacks to eat. I drop you off. I pick you up. I make sure…”

(This also went on for a while.)

“Wow, Mommy! You do a lot. Daddy only has ONE job. You would think he’d be able to do it.”

LOVE HIM!

In all fairness, Mike actually does do his fair share around the house… overflowing trashcans, notwithstanding… but I was too busy basking in the momentary glory to mention it.

Do you blame me?

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