It's been a busy week at our household with Andi and I both working long hours and squeezing in social and church activities. And maybe, just maybe, it could be said that neither of us are morning people.
On most nights, I'm waaaay too tired (or lazy) to clean up after a late dinner. So I leave the dishes for the morning and clean up quick before heading off to work. But the other night I was frustrated after doing laundry late into the evening, letting it pile up on the end of the bed until I had more energy to put it away. Cut to the next morning when I woke up, found the laundry now disfunctionally laying on the floor, shoes under the table, torn up mail laying on the coffee table, tv trays sitting in the living room, dirty dishes on the counter.... and .... welll .... I did the unthinkable in a husband's mind: I nagged.
It just came out before I could stop it.
"You know it'd be really great if you could help in doing a little cleaning around here." (under my breath mind you...) And this comment didn't sit to well with Husband bright and early in the morning. Door slam. And he was gone without so much as a "goodbye, I love you." (gasp!)
It's all good now. We both apologized for letting stupid, cranky irritations tick off the other. And if a point must be made, Husband even put his shoes away (!) and washed off the dishes after our make-shift dinner last night.
But this begs the question: what does it really mean to be a wife? Does anyone else out there feel it's your primal NEED to do all the laundry, all the dishes, all the cleaning and make sure the house is clean and presentable for your Husband come home to?
I struggle with this everyday. It makes me feel good to do all these things for my husband, like a good wifey should. What's the answer for 1950's housewife meets busy working wife of 2009? I can imagine this only gets harder with the pitter patter of little feet ...