Charles walked in the door and looked around. He saw that the children were playing quietly in the living room and heard his wife in the kitchen fixing dinner. The lack of crunching underfoot meant that the foyer and living room had been vacuumed. He allowed a self-satisfied smirk to cross his lips and thought you did well my man, and sat down in his recliner, not bothering to greet anyone. He recalled that the house had been so cluttered that morning he would have been embarrassed to have guests, but now, while not perfect, it was noticeably better. I wonder if I out-waited her on the laundry too? he thought as he settled down into his chair.
"What are you making for dinner?" he yelled in the direction of the kitchen.
"Hello to you too, dear," Catherine responded. "I am making roasted chicken, broccoli, and mashed potatoes."
Upon hearing her father's voice, Michelle, their eight year old daughter, leaped up and ran to him for a hug. She snuggled onto his lap and asked, "How was your day Daddy?"
"It was long and tiring, but it's better now since seeing you!" he responded giving her a hug and a kiss. Catherine, listening from the kitchen, shook her head in disbelief. I worked the entire day on my day off to clean this house, I'm cooking dinner, and he gives Michelle the greeting I should be getting?she thought as she slammed down the potato masher, the sting of tears making her blink several times.
Brian, not wanting to be left out, wiggled into a space on Charles' lap, giving him a hug. Charles rewarded his efforts with a hug and a kiss too.
"How's my little man today?"
"Good Daddy! We helped Mommy all day with cleaning, doesn't the house look great?"
"You two did a great job!" Charles exclaimed, giving his children additional hugs, kisses, and tickles.
"Stop Daddy!" they giggled, but did not wiggle free, enjoying the attention too much.
In the kitchen, Catherine fumed. Why do I bother? I work all week, take care of the children when they aren't at school, take care of the house, cook dinner, and who knows what else, and I can't even get a proper greeting? She went to the dining room and finished setting the table while fighting back tears. Once dinner was ready, Catherine set up the children's plates, cutting up the chicken, counting out the broccoli florets so that Brian only had five and Michelle had eight, and they had the same amount of mashed potatoes to minimize an argument. Having completed dishing out the meal and placing the plates at the table, she went to the bathroom to wash her face and clear her mind.
On the way back, she paused in the living room to announce dinner, but what she saw, calmed her. Charles was sitting in the recliner, Brian on his left and Michelle on his right, both snuggled against his shoulders, as he read them a book. Why does he have to do something so sweet when I am so angry at him? she thought. Catherine sighed, letting go of the anger. It does no good to be angry with with him, especially when he was being such a great father. What we need is to sit down and discuss how the division of labor is far from equitable. Satisfied with that thought, she smiled and announced dinner.
After the children were tucked into bed, Catherine broached the subject. "Do you know why the house has been a little chaotic the last few months?"
"You didn't feel like cleaning?"
Frowning, she replied, "No it was more than that, it was because I was feeling unappreciated."
Sighing, Charles looked at his wife, wondering if this was going to be a quarrel. "I appreciate you, dear, why do you think I don't?" Darn, maybe I didn't win the battle, he thought.
"I work a full-time job just like you, but for some reason the housework falls to me. I tried to go on strike to see if you would step up and help out, but that didn't work. Brian thought I didn't love the family or the house anymore because I stopped putting away laundry and caring about how clean the house was. I know you work hard, but so do I. I don't get a break when I am home. I would love to sit in the recliner, watch TV, and have the house work done by someone else, but the last few weeks have proven that won't happen. Maybe it was unfair to think this in your direction with the hope that you would pick it up psychically, but now I think we should have that talk."
She paused briefly hoping that the emotions she was feeling would remain under control so that Charles would take her seriously.
"We need my paycheck as much as we need yours. I am asking for your help. I love that you are willing to sit with the children to read them a book or go outside to play so that I can concentrate, but I need your help with getting things done as well. Michelle and Brian helped today, but having another adult working with me would be wonderful. I shouldn't have to spend all my spare time cleaning. Plus, when you come home, you greet the children, but it has been months since you greeted me."
She stopped again and looked at him, worried that last part came out too whiny and teenager-ish, but after a long day of working, having a hug and a kiss from her life's partner was something she looked forward to and had missed.
Charles looked at his wife, taking in the whole image. It was as if he had not seen her clearly for some time: he noticed the furrowed brow that had begun to make deep lines, the gray hair along the temples, the dark shadows under her eyes, the glassy and bloodshot eyes that were trying to hold back tears, and the plaintive expression on her face. Had he done this to his wife? he thought. He then felt guilty about out-waiting her on the housework and laundry, and the other week when he took the children away for the day so she could work, but then fussed at her when she took the time to pamper herself. She's right, we couldn't live on my pay alone, her paycheck is 50% of the household income, but she is doing 95% of the housekeeping.
Charles walked over to Catherine and enfolded her in an embrace. Catherine clung to him, crying the tears that she had been suppressing all day.
"I'm sorry, you're right, I have been taking you for granted. It is unfair that I am not helping around the house when we both work full-time jobs. I promise to do better. When we got married it was supposed to be a partnership, 50-50, and it will be again. I love you and the children. I don't want you to ever feel this way again."
He bent his head to give her a kiss, and then whispered in her ear, "It is you and me, Charlie and Cathy, against the world, just like I promised you ten years ago."
"As it should be," she sighed and gave him a kiss.
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