The Demise of Stay-at-Home Ari

I just completed my first paid week of work. No big deal, right? I come home one afternoon to find my Chris sorting through charts.

"I think we should use these charts," he said.

I looked them over to discover that they were household chore lists. I smirked, thinking that he would be all "Let me tell you what to do with your time so that you can work AND clean the house." In which case, it was going to be a screaming match. And I can scream, you know. Loudly. Really loudly.

But I was wrong. Instead it had all the major household chores laid out so that the three of us could pick and choose which ones we'd do. I stuck with the chores that involved appliances that I do not want broken, like the dishwasher and laundry appliances. I don't care how progressive things are with the sexes these days, I still do not trust the boys to load the dishwasher properly. And we all know how well my Chris does laundry. *coughPINKcough*

Kade chose chores that he frequently does anyway, along with a few that were at his level, like sweeping the floor. I figure he's closer to the floor, it'll be easier for him to sweep. I like my logic. My Chris chose jobs based on glares that I give him over the table, i.e. taking out the garbage, picking up the living room.

To tell you the truth, we made our chore list and posted it on the kitchen wall for all to see, but I really didn't expect anyone to stick to it. I thought maybe it would last a day. And so, the other night, my Chris got off work before me. He was the one that picked up Kade. I came home to find the house smelling wonderful, because he had started dinner. I walked into the kitchen to find Kade sweeping the floor (although, really he was only pushing dust around.) I was surprised and happy, but strangely irritated and then I walked into the laundry room.

Someone put a pair of my pink pants in with whites!!! Who does that!? Who does that even though it's not on his chore list and I've told him time after time that pinks and reds don't go with whites?! For some inexplicable reason, I got really angry. I stomped around the laundry room muttering to myself. The pink pants in question have been washed dozens of times. They weren't going to turn any of the whites pink. I hate sweeping the floor and cooking, so why would I mind if the boys do it? They were being sweet about it. So why was I so angry?

I guess the answer is that somehow I feel as though I've lost control a bit. I've considered myself the master of this domain for so long that now it feels as if I've slipped. Who cares if they don't do things MY way, just so long as it gets done? So I've been trying to be more patient. My Chris doesn't spray down the end tables before he wipes them clean. So what? I can let that go. I showed Kade the joys of the dustpan, but he still has trouble. So what? He'll learn. Besides, my room is a mess and I haven't cleaned it in more than a week. Who am I to talk?

It sucks not being in power. It sucks to share the limelight, but on the other hand, we are sharing the responsibility, too. I sort of prefer the original method of me directing them, being the little dictator of this house, but then again I hated not being the one bringing home a paycheck. We make sacrifices, though. I can't do it all. So I'll have to let them do some.

But if you ask anyone in this house who wears the pants, IT'S STILL ME! (Black leather ones with a silk scarf as a belt.)