Time Lapse

It has been sometime since I have posted, and a lot has happened in that time. V and F started taking on more than I had expected. Things were getting done, at least for a little bit. 

Then the weekend came and I was home. I was more disposed to helping out when the boys initiated thanks. When that started getting left on the wayside again I became angry. 

Sunday, I blew up.

I went out to the laundry room and saw things piling up. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was female hormones out of whack. I came back into the house pissed off and V new it. Being the good husband he is, he asked me what was wrong. Not holding back my frustration I let him know.

I won't go into the details of what transpired next; needless to say it resulted in us not talking for a few hours and a frenzy of activity on V's part that was probably not good for him. I remained righteously angry and refused at that time to acknowledge what he was doing. F was in his room at the time of the argument so I'm sure he heard my complaints. Luckily M and N were at a sleepover. V's peace offering came a couple hours later in the form of home-cooked breakfast. 

Needless to say my experiment is at an end.  Having expressed my frustration, albeit in somewhat of a volatile manner, I do feel more is being done with me instead of me taking things on by myself. I will say that during the argument V asked why I didn't just ask for help? A large part of me wants to say that I shouldn't have to ask for help from my husband and a 17-year-old. Then again how are they to know I need help without me expressing it?

I will continue to catalog the following days, to see where this leads. Will this be a new road forged or just circling around back to past habits?

Day 7- Little Surprises

I got a call/text from V to let me know he had washed the blanket from the living room.   Bear in mind these were the baskets of laundry that mysteriously appeared after the brought the basin out to the laundry room. They had been sitting in our living room untouched for however many days. It's a nice surprise, seeing as I had expected the baskets of previously clean sheets and blankets to sit for at least another day. Not only that but when I venture into the laundry room, the basin is empty. 

That's not to say a different sight didn't greet me when I walked in there. Apparently this is how you nest laundry baskets.

Granted this wasn't V, this was probably F. Still I would think a 17-year-old would know how to properly store laundry baskets for maximum efficiency. 

I guess I should just be pleased to know that things are getting done without my constant reminding and nagging.   

I will admit I did help out with some of the laundry, but only because I needed clean clothes. V had not taken the clean blanket and towels out of the washer.

1. I needed the washing machine therefore I had to transfer the wet items to the dryer. 

2. Leaving the wet things in a basket in the laundry room to be transferred at a later time would've resulted in disaster. 

Trust me, I know. At one point this summer F decided to leave wet fitted and flat sheets in a basket in the laundry room which later housed a million mosquitoes. Imagine my shock when I went to move the sheets and a large cloud of mosquitoes greeted my face. Needless to say F got yelled at for that one. 

So is it any wonder my expectations of the laundry getting done are so minimal?

Day 6 - A Useless Emotion

I find I have to remind myself not to pick up everything.  I don’t have to clear off the counter. I don’t have to fold all the laundry. I don’t have to take out the trash. I didn't think it would be this hard to keep from doing things. It seems habitual to clear the counters, whether I need the counter space or not. Laundry is easy to forego because I abhor folding laundry.

The trash can is a conundrum.

On the one hand, everyone uses the thing and contributes to its contents therefore it is a household responsibility. On the other hand, how long must I endure a filthy, stinky, overflowing trashcan before someone else finally decides to do something about it?

That’s what I was faced with today. Remember those veggies V chucked after they’d been out all night? They, of course, found their way to the top of the bin. That wouldn't have normally bothered me so much had the trash not already been practically overflowing; so much so that I removed the swinging lid to be able to actually throw anything else away.  Naturally this was also the morning that F decided to cook himself some eggs for breakfast. Since the disposal isn't working the shells are added to the mountain along with whatever bits and pieces I discard from making lunches. 

Miraculously, V was up and about before we left for school. He walked into the kitchen just as I delicately balanced some scrap of lunchtime rubbish on the heap that used to be an ordinary trash receptacle.  I turned back to complete school lunch preparation and heard, behind me, the sound of the trash bag being gathered.

This is another place I am torn. I was happy and grateful at that moment, and slightly worried. V’s health is what no man under 30 should be experiencing. However he does things around the house even if it causes him discomfort or even pain. I love my husband and I don’t want him hurting. But I can’t do this all on my own and I don’t think I should constantly have to ask for help.

He took the loaded trash bag out to the alley dumpster and returned, huffing and puffing (you would too if you were on a 30 day heart monitor) and placed replaced the bag.

I didn't even say “Thank you.”

Is this experience worth the guilt? Should I be feeling guilty at all? I honestly don’t know.

Day 5 - Papers and Plates

The offending basin is still where V left it and I haven’t lifted a finger to fold the clean laundry. I did, however, wake up to this…

I have concluded the papers either grew legs and decided to migrate to high ground or Hubby V moved them before he joined me in bed. I’m inclined to believe the former but I guess he could have taken some initiative. It makes me curious if he would have moved them at all had I left them on my side of the bed.

It seems to me the experiment is progressing in a positive, albeit slow, manner. Perhaps my backing off on things is getting noticed. However, I must admit I find myself torn when it comes to certain chores not being done. For example, do I go ahead and put the food away or leave it out and take the chance of it spoiling? Granted I am NOT the only one here capable of saran wrapping some leftovers. Yet I struggle with the thought of letting something go, knowing the consequences tomorrow.

For example:

Last night I left the veggies and ranch out on the table instead of packing them up and putting them away.  I woke up the plate of veggies, right where it had been, with old, drying ranch in the bowl. I wasn't surprised by this yet it was still frustrating to me. I was not the last one to bed. All through my morning routine I left the food where it was.  When I arrived home from work and child retrieval, the plate and all its contents were gone; plate was in the sink and food in the trash.

I don’t know how to feel about this.

Day 4- Battle of the Paper Pile

One thing that I think is only fair; I clean up my own mess. It’s what I was taught as a child, what I am trying to teach my children. So if I make the mess, I clean it up. If YOU make the mess…

It’s a little harder to tailor my expectation for the younger ones. As children do, they make a mess and move on to the next exciting thing.  I can forgive them a small mess or if they only need a gentle reminder.

Today M finally gave us last week’s papers from school.  V brought these into our room and reviewed them by setting papers down on the bed. Important announcements, spelling words etc were set aside to keep; the rest he took to the recycle bin.  Now I’m not sure if he left those papers for me to review, especially since I was there when he went through them the first time. But there the papers stayed. Even while M, N and I went out for the afternoon and V decided to lay down, the papers found their way to my side of the bed. 

I grant you that school paperwork tends to accumulate quickly, with really no one designated spot for its collection.  Still, anywhere else would seem more appropriate than the foot of our bed.  So we come back from our outing. I decided it was my turn for a rest so I moved the pile back to his side of the bed.

I had about 5 minutes to myself when V came into be bedroom and declared he would rest with me. This made me happy on two levels. 1. Who doesn't love a bit of cuddle with the hubby on a lazy afternoon? 2. Can it be? Surely he will clear the bed so we can both lie down comfortably. He moves to the pile of papers…

          BETWEEN where our feet go, at the foot of the mattress.  And just when I thought he would remove them completely.

 My hopes, crushed. This begs the question, Where will they end up at bed time?

Day 3- A Revelation

It occurred to me today that just because someone walked in a certain direction doesn't mean they reached the destination you anticipate.  Just because I walk down the hall doesn't mean I’m heading to my bedroom. There are a few other options I could conceivably choose from. 

On that same token, just because V walked out the dining room door with a basin of dirty, stinky juice towels doesn't necessarily mean said towels got washed.  A basket of clean/dry laundry appeared IN the house.  That points to a load of something being started, right?

I had to check.

REALLY!?!?  Really?  This is ridiculous. 

I resolved to leave it as I found it and let the experiment take its course.  I may be the one who visits the laundry room most frequently by I am by no means its only visitor. At this rate I anticipate the basin remaining in its current location for at least 3 days to come; perhaps even until next weekend when F finally decides to do his own laundry.  Sadly I can also foresee the basin being moved from “top of washer” to “top of dryer” and various other places rather than getting washed.  Maybe I’ll be wrong. 

One can live in hope.

Day 2- It Remains

My young ones’ school doesn't have a cafeteria. This means I prepare lunch for them every morning. On a typical day, the alarm rings out at 6 am with a snooze or two to follow. Once I've sufficiently put myself together, amid the sporadic calls to Mommy for help with this or that, I finally make my way to the kitchen. With luck, the 17 year old (F) has prepped the coffee maker and all I have to do is find my travel mug before making lunches.  Today, however, is different.

Coffee wasn't prepped. No big deal; takes all of a minute to get it ready for brewing. Where would we be without our morning life’s blood? Prepping coffee doesn't irk me. The basin in the sink does. 

It’s still there. I needed room to collect my coffee water and that nasty basin full of juicy towels was in the sink. Not only that, but the previously empty sink used for pasta drainage is now full of dirty dishes.

Dilemma?  Or not so much?

With little time to complete my morning routine I took the quickest course of action and take the basin out of the sink and set it on the floor.  Problem Solved! If it got in my path, I scooted it over a bit.

Later that evening I’m prepping the oven for grocery store pizzas. F had a friend coming to spend the night and it’s an easy meal. I’m walking around the kitchen, doing my thing, only this time Hubby V notices me slide the basin across the tile and out of my way. 

“What’s that?”

“Those are the towels we used for the juice.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

He walks over, picks up the basin and heads out the dining room door to presumably take them to the laundry room!  POINTS FOR ME! I didn't have to ask! Granted who knows how long these icky, sticky towels would have moved around the kitchen had he not caught me shuffling them hither and yon.  Still, I’ll take a win where I can. Score one for the Experiment!

PS: I didn't bother putting the leftover pizza away. Go me.