My Way

I like things done a certain way and ever since this here site became so blogtastic (Big Daddy P’s word), I’ve become so preoccupied writing that my domestic responsibilities have suffered immeasurably. For all my friends out there who have been secretly dying to see my house in shambles for years, now is your chance, hell has indeed frozen over. Just last week, Big Daddy P caught me feeding the kids cereal for dinner which I actually saw a positive for me personally.

I am a Type A Mommy Friend and everybody knows that we Type A’s just aren’t super fun, unless we are helping you organize your shoes or something. Reliable, yes. Fun, not so much. So I’m preoccupied with my blog which is making me more Type B and thus, more fun apparently (so yay for that) but back to what I was saying. You’d think with the unwavering support of Big Daddy P and his willingness to go the extra mile while I blog myself into oblivion, I’d be eternally grateful for his extra help, right? Yes, a reasonable person would think that, but you’d be wrong. Type A’s can’t do that, we just aren’t wired that way. See, Big Daddy P and I have different ways of doing things. I do them right and he does them…well, differently. He so often reminds me that accepting help requires relinquishing control which I have no problem doing, so long as he does things my way.

A few Saturdays ago I was at my Mommy Friend Irene’s baby shower and I came home to discover Big Daddy P has started the laundry. Instead of being relieved or grateful, I instinctively went into panic mode. My instincts were telling me my delicates were being washed with regular detergent on the “heavy-normal” cycle, and my instincts were…right – GASP! I took a deep breath and calmly informed him of my discovery which was met with utter indifference. He mentioned something about his way and my way but I can’t tell you what he said because I was preoccupied by visions of my shredded work blouses. Ultimately, I was grateful; grateful I got home before he dried the load or I would have ended up with some interesting toddler career wear.

Big Daddy P and I have danced this dance a long time and for the most part we agree to disagree regarding our household chore methodology.

The question still remains unanswered, if he knows how much my way matters to me and he wants to help me out, why does he still insist on doing things wrong differently?

There are only 2 possible answers as far as I can tell:

1. He doesn’t know better or care to know better.

2. He does things his way so the chores will remain my responsibility

Let’s reexamine the possibilities:

1. He doesn’t know better or care to know better – Perhaps. In his mind, dirty clothes + soap = clean clothes, washing instructions be damned. The clothes needed washing and he washed them.

2. He does things his way so the chores will remain my responsibility –I doubt it. Lots of our men think this move is genius but most of us are pretty savvy at recognizing it.

While I may never know from chore to chore whether the answer is #1 or #2, I do know this. On the rare occasions I tackle his awful chores, I do it with such half-assness that it would make your head spin and yet he never ever complains. Just another reason why he is my better half.

If it’s the thought that counts then why can’t I just count on the thought? Is it true that you can take the girl out of the Type A but you can’t take the Type A out of the girl? I certainly hope not because I’m committed to trying.