Delegating


I am going to do something I don’t normally do.  When my fiance wakes up I am going to ask him to help me out.  Mainly, to do some laundry and wash some dishes.  It’s not that he is unwilling to help me.  It’s just that he usually doesn’t unless I ask.  And I never ask. 
It’s a guilt thing.  I feel like I should take care of all the domestic stuff since he works outside the home and goes to school.  His plate is full.  So I try to take care of all the cleaning and cooking and most of the childrearing.  I like these traditional roles.  It works for us.  Most of the time. 
But right now, I don’t even want to look at my surroundings.  I shudder at the thought of someone knocking on the door because I would be so embarrassed to have them see how messy the house is.  I was already falling behind on chores due to holiday depression (more on that in a later post…maybe), but I have been sick with a nasty spell of bronchitis for the past several days so now that little-behind-on-chores has turned into an all-out pigsty. Something about being unable to sit upright for longer than five minutes without fainting all while a toddler has full awareness that his mother can’t run after him and prevent his messy curiosities makes a home look a bit terrifying.  Normally I would just let it go until I feel better all while hating myself for being such a failure at housewifedom, but I can’t take it any more.  At least the dishes need to be washed. And we are running out of clean clothes to wear.  The kitchen floor really needs a good sweeping, but I probably won’t mention that to him.  Because, you know, I would feel guilty.  

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