WHO'S DOING THE DISHES?

Accepting Role Reversals As We Age

That’s Good To Know is a blog full of light-hearted stories about the challenges of aging. It is meant to foreshadow, to comfort & to encourage its readers. Welcome!

I’m afraid I’m going  to lose my mind.  When I walked into the kitchen the other day, I suddenly felt sweat running down my back  and my heart racing in my chest.  Who left those dirty dishes on the counter — again?  

I certainly wasn’t upset because  I’m a great housekeeper.  Just the opposite. When I was first married 57 years ago,  I hung  a decorative plate  over my stove that asked, “I spent 4 years in college for this?” and a sun catcher  in my kitchen window claiming, “An immaculate house is a sign of a misspent life.”

Well, even though I put my husband on notice back then, I still surprised myself a few times over the years with my lack of housekeeping skills -- like  the time I spotted a glob of  Dippity Do hair gel on the rim  of a friend’s drinking glass and  the time I turned on the oven and smelled the stench of burning rubber.  I had forgotten  I hid  a dirty pan & spatula in the stove because my mom was coming to visit.

I AM  proud to say I’ve done my duty as a woman  making dinner and washing  dishes at least 19,951 times so far.   I’ve loaded and unloaded groceries over 8,892 times.   And don’t even talk about the 5,982 loads of smelly laundry I’ve done since I’ve been married.  I had to laugh at myself recently, however, when I kicked a load of laundry down the hallway  and  my t-shirt that said “Back Off ~ I’m The Crazy Sister” ended up swinging on a door knob like a warning sign.  Ha! 

It’s obvious. I have  to change my attitude just like every generation, letting go of some of my old beliefs, so I can survive  another 57 years.

My husband has always been a good guy wanting  to help me, but I’ve held on tightly  to the old-fashion notion  that men and women have different  roles and my  job  is  to do the housework, not his — whether I like it or not.

I remember how I used to think my daughters must really love me because they tried desperately to follow me out the door whenever I left the house. Little did I know that their dad reverted back to his military days and made the girls “police” the area before I got back home.  I didn’t realize their teary  “Mom, don’t go …” was actually code for “Save Us.”

In later years when we had our kitchen remodeled, my husband didn’t even bat an eye when I ordered the top-of-the-line dishwasher with two drawers.  And he only chuckled when I told the carpenter to put in 10 can lights because I hated to cook, but wanted to look dramatic doing it.   

I’m happy to announce that there IS hope that you can change as you age.

I’m finally making progress. Last night when I was cleaning up after supper, I accepted some help. I was able to control my trembling and shortness of breath as my husband was scraping the Teflon off the frying pan. And all I had to do to relax was close my eyes, take a deep breath and let the tension drain out of my muscles as he opened the oven door to let the heat out  into the room and draped the wet dishrag over the faucet like his grandma used to do.

A recent study says to make something a habit, an automatic routine, it takes daily repetition anywhere from 18-254 days – the average length being 66 days.  

Repetition???   Repetition??? OMG!!! Fifty-seven years of repetition. But, honestly, I’m going to try accepting some role reversals with my husband and start counting my blessings instead of focusing on the REPETITION. I’ve only got 65 more days to go… Pray for me.

It’ll Be OK.

“I had to clean my house for 2 hours just to tell my guests, “Sorry about the mess.” ~ Beckley Green

COMMENT: Please, make me feel better about myself. jk Share your least favorite household chore?