Thirty-one weeks and six days.
That’s how long I’ve been gestating Shaggy Boy. And let me tell you, friends and countrymen, it feels EVERY BIT THAT LONG.
Y’all who’ve been following my tweets this week probably saw that I’m near the end of my tether with this whole “baby-incubator” thing. You know it’s bad when your midwife says, “you know, we hate to say this, but they really are like parasites.”
Parasites, indeed.
My complaints are many, but are mostly focused on my inability to rest. I have a million things to do and my energy peaks in the morning. So I rise early and try to jam in all my errands and chores – almost all of which have me on my feet – before 2 p.m.
Even so, I still find myself rushing around the house (well, lumbering slowly, anyway) well past 5 p.m. Dinner, bath time, bed time … the usual suspects.
Last night I broke when my husband asked me what “we” were going to do about cleaning the house this weekend.
“We” haven’t cleaned the house in, oh, months. I clean the house.
It used to be that my husband was the more domestic one, the person more concerned with the cleanliness of our home. I am a well-known and admitted slob and when we moved in together, our arguments about housework got out of hand.
Finally I told him that if he wanted it done a certain way, he would have to do it his damn self.
To give him credit, he did. For years.
Then grad school came and I quit my job to be a full-time caretaker of home and hearth and suddenly, we stepped in a time machine set on 1950.
My husband does very little inside the house these days. He takes great care of the yard, and he does the big stuff like moving furniture and cleaning the basement, but all the other chores fall to me. Cooking, cleaning, laundry … and the bulk of the childcare.
I enjoy being home, don’t get me wrong. I willingly took on those tasks. I wanted to raise our kids as my mom did, with clean floors and fresh cookies.
But I’m cut from a different cloth. I’d rather write than sweep. I’d rather play that dust. I’d rather put off the laundry and go to the pool for the afternoon.
It makes Mr. C crazy, but my argument is that those who don’t contribute can’t complain.
It is an argument as old as the produce in my dirty fridge. And we had it again last night, with an extra dose of pregnancy hormones and exhaustion to make it extra fun.
This morning we circled one another like cats, and I know by dinner time we’ll be fine. And he will help me clean, and all will be well.
But the Shaggy List is growing. There are many, many tasks that need to be completed before the wee one arrives. And afterward, I won’t have the luxury of “asking” for help. It will just have to happen.
I don’t doubt my husband’s love for me, and I don’t doubt that he really believes he is an equal partner in the Chicken Family Domestic Engineering Division. But he isn’t, and I can’t make him see that without raising my voice sometimes.
These are the days when I wonder exactly what I got myself into when I made the “choice” to submit my resignation from the traditional working world.
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feeling you on that, my friend. FEELING. YOU.
I’m looking at my messy house, thinking of my husband playing on his computer last night while I felt the slow panic rise up and threaten to choke me. He’ll help if I ask.
I don’t want to HAVE to ask.
Oh, how I know your pain. Since I’ve been home for the summer, my husband (asshat) has expected the house to be spotless with me greeting him at the door with a drink and dinner on the table. I remind him that I never claimed to be a 50’s housewife and he knew that when he proposed…
Ha, I hear you! I recently read a study by U of MD that stated more men think they contribute equally in the home, but in reality they do not.
We moved closer to DH’s job, to get him out of a 4-hour commute. I quit my job to move. I haven’t found work yet so I’ve been the SAH(gestating wife). I quit so that he would have four hours of free time every day, time to walk the dog, eat breakfast, get to the gym, finish unpacking, play ball with the guys after work…
Funny, he just spends three more hours at work every day, and one more hour working from home. Arrrrrrg.
I hear you. We are getting ready to sell the house – tons of housework and home repairs and my guy is gone all the time.
I’m looking into child labor laws. Just how much can I get my kids to help.
I wish I had the answer.
after thirteen weeks of bedrest, we’re still half-playing this game. he does more than he used to, but i’m still having to NOTICE that the cat litter needs to go out, the laundry (which i put in the dryer piece by friggin’ piece and folded while lying down) needs to be carried upstairs before the laundry room explodes, the garbage goes out Tuesdays, etc. he’s making headway on the dishes, i will say. but i can’t help but wonder once i’m back on my feet if any of this headway will even last, or if my payoff will be a non-articulated version of “well, i did it all for all those months…” sigh.
sympathies.
If he wants it clean, he can make sure it gets that way, but keep in mind that by working he _is_ contributing.
I understand you’re tired and all, but you did say “I quit my job to be a full-time caretaker of home and hearth.” You can write, play, and go to the pool, but those things would count as your “time off”, right?
I, too, would rather play and write and swim and goof off rather than clean the house.
Fortunately, my husband would rather come home to a dirty house and happy kids as opposed to a clean house, dinner on the table and cranky kids.
Pregnancy is exhausting – hang in there. You are in the home stretch!
Jason, I fully acknowledge that he works. However, his job is a sedentary one. And when I am 100 percent and not pregnant, that is one thing.
When walking up the stairs makes me winded, it is not too much to expect that he can pick up some slack, just as I do when his myriad injuries (ankle, back) put him out of commission.
Bringing in a paycheck (minute though it is) is important. I also do that, with my job as a travel columnist. So I pack six hours of intellectual work into my week, as well as 24 hours of parental and domestic work.
If he wants it a certain way, he needs to contribute more to get it that way AT HOME. Otherwise, he can accept how the house looks. Because at this point I am physically tapped out.
Period.
Because when you are 32 weeks pregnant and dealing with severe anemia, playing and taking your kid to the pool are not time off.
Girl, lets go out to KFC for some livers! Jason can suck it – being a gradual student IS NOT THAT TAXING.
I wish I had some useful thing to say, but all I can say is you’re not alone. Hugs.
my offer to be your live in massage therapist still stands
I’d rather write (or do just about anything) than clean too. And yes, working full time out of the home is my primary excuse.
If I were at home with the boys I’d feel way more guilty about letting the house get out of hand.
except that it seems like you didn’t submit your resignation, right? You’re still writing, you’re still producing, you’re still bringing income into the house. You’re staying at home, but working two jobs, while pregnant. I’d say someone else needs to start helping or hire a nice housekeeper to come every week or so.
Dude. I still get totally annoyed with the sheer domesticity of this stay-at-home gig. Blessed as I am to be home with my kids, when I worked full time we were more 60/40 in the household chores department. Now we’re more like 90/10. And I do work part time. This week I fit 10 hours of writing around all the other stuff.
I plan to reindoctrinate my hubby to the world of cleaning and laundry when the kids are finally all in school and I work full time again. Until then, I begrudgingly do the domestic stuff, very slowly at times on account of the big chip on my shoulder.
If it makes you feel any better, I work full time and yet somehow am STILL expected to assume most of the cleaning, child care, and cooking responsibilities somehow.
On the plus side, I can afford to bring in a cleaning lady.
On the third side (I was never very good at math), it is only every other week.
So our house is spotless 1 of every 14 days. The other 13 it hovers somewhere between “Scottish Pay Toilet” and “EPA Toxic SuperSite.”
Going to the pool, with a child (or two) in tow is not time off. You still have to supervise said child(ren). Yes, it’s fun but it’s still Mom work. If you’re headed to the pool anytime soon let me know, we’re usually there.
Last night Frank asked me where we kept the pillowcases. I told him in our closet. When he came out w/a pillowcase (I was fully expecting him to not be able to find one), he said, “Wow. You’ve got it all organized in there. Baskets with labels and everything.”
“Yep. It’s been that way for well over a year.”
“I never look over there.”
Frank will clean but it takes him literally hours to clean a tiny bathroom, which just boggles my mind.
Hopefully, everything will work out for the best.
This is a side note, but you are approaching the point where I had Declan (32 weeks) and I know it’s stupid of me, but I always get freaked out with friends at this point. What is my deal?
I don’t ask much of C but to take out the garbage. I usually end of doing it. I know I am doing a great thing for my family, even when I don’t feel like it!
Ugh, that sucks. I remember being in and out of Emergency while hugely pregnant and working full-time and I still had to shovel the walk, cook dinner, and clean the house. Equality my ass!
All that matters is that you and the baby are safe and comfortable. The dirty house will just have to wait.
My husband often asks “we” questions that I know he really means, “get off your lazy bum and do X.” Oh how pissed I get. Oh how much MORE pissed I’d be if I’d heard it at 31 weeks, 6 days pregnant.
I had decided that it was easier to live in the misery of clutter and filth than it was to live with the misery of feeling like a maid to my “partner.” That was until the roach appeared last week (you know there’s never just one). Aieeee!
My husband is good at starting “spring” cleaning and then leaving me with it! He did it again this weekend, he moved furniture and washed down 4 walls, I have done the rest and am still at it!
re:But I’m cut from a different cloth. I’d rather write than sweep. I’d rather play that dust. I’d rather put off the laundry and go to the pool for the afternoon.
Same here. I hate the clutter, but given the option to ignore it, I usually do. It never ends.
Oh girl, I SO share your pain. When I took a leave from my grad program after our little one was born, I too felt I had stepped into the 1950s. And I’m like you, I just don’t have the need to clean and would rather (and do) spend my time on better things. We have had this fight SO many times. And it always does get better, but there are all of these weird assumptions that pop up out of the male subconscious when you’re no longer professional equals, even if temporarily. Because my husband is not that kind of guy, he’s totally liberal and educated, yet we had this same issue as soon as our baby was born and I was on leave.
There are so many old, OLD mindsets that come out when a modern woman becomes a stay at home mom.
Just like I dared to take a 24 hours to myself this weekend and housesat for my boss. I asked Wally to do the laundry while was gone. I came back and the boys were out of shorts because someone didn’t do laundry.
I’ve learned to live with more mess. Believe me, when that second baby gets to be old enough to make a mess, watch! out! Hubs needs to be preparing himself for the messiness that is a family of four.