Division of Labor

There are two sides to every story. Or, as the case may be around here, there could even by four sides of every story.

We're smack in the middle of my fourth week at home with Tom and the girls.

It's...okay.

I mean, it's fine, it's obviously stressful and we're all experiencing some degree of cabin fever but it's fine.

Except when it's not.

On week days, Olivia and I get up at 10 to start the day. Some days we shower, some days we don't. Since it take Liv at least 20 minutes to gather her 'treasures', ie, the items she sleeps with and yet will NOT leave in her bed each day, we are never downstairs for breakfast before 10:30, even on non-shower days.

We usually start school work by 11:30am and it's never taken us beyond 1:30 to finish it for that day.

Then, obviously, it's time for O's lunch.

Recently, I've felt a sense of martyrdom, that I'm doing the bulk of the work around here with regards to keeping house and caring for the girls.

We know that the other side of this story would say differently. I know that Tom works hard. I do. I also live inside my own head, where I'm the center of the universe and in my universe, I'm tired of never, ever being alone.

So on recent Tuesday (of course it was a Tuesday) I mentioned that someone was going to have to make a fruit run. We were out of apples, bananas, strawberries, and cuties.

I told Tom that he had a choice. He could either go to the nearest grocery store (a ten minute drive) and buy fruit or he could put together lunch for the girls.

Now, there were several options in this scenario:

1. I make lunch, he goes to buy fruit and the girls go with him.

2. I make lunch, he goes to buy fruit and the girls stay home with me.

3. He makes lunch, I go buy fruit and the girls go with me.

4. H makes lunch, I go buy fruit and the girls stay home with him.

He chose to go buy fruit.

Guess which option, 1 or 2, happened.

Obviously, the girls stayed with me. It was never actually an option that they'd go with him. But then again, if I'd gone to get the fruit, it never would have been an option that they'd stay home either.

Sigh.

I know this is my fault.

I could insist they either go with him or stay home with him. But insisting is so much work.

It's so much easier to just be a martyr.

But then I'm resentful and they sense my resentment and everyone is miserable.

We'll get through this. Together.