Come to our house and you will find a fairly generic 1950s division of labor. I make sure the cars work (old cars, so it takes a lot of maintenance), the bills are paid, the lawn is maintained (though I’ve hired it out recently), and that broken things get fixed. The boys come to me when they built something cool and they want to show it off.
Courtney stocks the kitchen, figures out meals (though we’re happy to pivot to a restaurant), keeps up with the boys’ schedule, and makes sure the house runs. The boys find her when they want to be comforted.
Though for about nine of our 21 years Courtney had a full-time job, I think some modern influencers might call her a “trad wife.”
We are fine with this life—more than that, we welcome it. Every marriage needs clear expectations on more than just household duties. Our division need not be your division. Expectations that are stated, agreed to, and lived out are a special kindness.
But, I’m prone to ruin that kindness. Maybe you are, too.
Good Changes . . .
For over the past two years I’ve been on a bit of a marital reclamation journey. Though I’ve been grateful for every year of marriage, I’ve only over the last few seen how much I contributed to our problems. As newlyweds, Courtney would be depressed and asleep under her desk at the school where she taught and I’d say, “Just feel better.” Early in marriage we had a lot of fights—about expectations, about diabetes, about whether we were right for each other.
I could be through and through rude. Who can relate?
But 2024 is when some more decisive shifts were made. I began to take on a little more work. I had a specific goal: earn enough additional income that Courtney could reduce or remove the hours at her job if she wanted. She loved the job (working at the boys’ school) and the people. She still loves the people, but doesn’t miss some of the actual work as much.
However, by God’s grace, we were able to make the change. She just finished her first school year not working at the school. Her energy was higher and she was spending more time on things she was great at. The plan was working.
And yet there was a specific morning where I wanted to ruin it.
. . . Same Me
During the school year the alarm goes off about 5:30. Kids get up over the next 45 minutes—usually in birth order—and prepare for the day. One of those mornings after the boys left, I surveyed the kitchen. I noticed the dishes from the night prior hadn’t been done. I don’t know if it is a global thing or not, but waking up to dishes in the sink is less cool than waking up to no dishes in the sink.
So I sauntered over to Courtney, who was on the couch enjoying her morning.
“Hey, I am totally fine working more. I’m happy to do it. The one thing I ask is that the dishes get done.”
Imagine two doors—one door says “say that thing” and the other one says “don’t say that thing.” Given one million chances to walk through one of those doors and receive the outcome on the other side, there would be zero of those million where I should walk through the “say that thing” door.
“EXCUSE ME?!? When don’t the dishes get done? They always get done. If you don’t like when they get done you can do them.”
Whoops.
While I didn’t like being yelled at (who does?), I deserved the rebuke. Something I’ve learned about navigating depression in marriage is that a response like Courtney’s was quite healthy. When she’s depressed she’ll quietly go, “Okay” and move on. When she’s in a good place, she’ll tell me I’m being an idiot and stand her ground.
If You Don’t Like It, Do It
I’m not sure the motivation for my idiocy in the moment. I’m sure, at its core, there was pride. “I’m just working sooooooooo haarrrrdddddddd, can you at least do the dishes at night?” Like I somehow deserved it? I didn’t deserve it.
But I kept thinking about her callout: if you don’t like it, you can do it. This is the advice I give to almost any person who has a problem in a relationship. I just missed it for my own. Do the thing that bugs you. Nobody is stopping you.
So, as dumb as it might sound, I set a daily reminder to check the dishes (and do them if I needed to). I couldn’t be a squeaky wheel about it anymore. I can either do the dishes or not care about the dishes. What was no longer allowed was caring about someone else doing the dishes on my timeline.
After weeks (or months), I didn’t need the reminder anymore and deleted it from my phone. I could help out, the kids could help out, or we could leave the dishes piled high. It was no longer an issue because I realized that I was the problem. And once you realize you’re the problem, things can get better much more quickly.
But that’s me.
What are your metaphorical dishes?
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