Washday Blues
Because you crave one, it’s time for a thrilling adventure in the world of detergent.
My husband does the laundry. No one asks him to, and often no one thanks him for doing it. But somehow, every week, our clothes, our kids’ clothes, the towels, the sheets; they all get cleaned. And with each load, the jealousy grows.
Should readers be confused – and I quite understand – the jealousy is that of Erin Hendriksen, a contributor to Scary Mommy.
Throwing the piles into the washing machine is definitely the easy part. From there, he sorts them into mounds of hang-dry vs. dryer items, hangs the clothes, folds the towels and clothes, and puts the fresh sheets on the beds. A couple of times per week, I walk into our bedroom to find a tidy little pile of my clothes. They are folded with tenderness, neatly stacked, and grouped by category.
What glorious man-creature is this?
I know he would put them away, too, if only he knew where they went.
A flaw. Thank goodness.
That is not even close to all he does around the house either. He’s the dishwasher, the grocery collector, the garbage remover, and the maintenance man. He follows behind us all, picking up the thrown socks, crumbs, and toys, somehow managing to maintain some sort of order within the chaos.
Ms Hendriksen’s husband also entertains the children with “nightly horsey rides, weekend swimming lessons, and stories before bed.” However, this is Scary Mommy, where progressive ladies bare their souls. And so, complications, and notes of sourness, must forever loom.
I know that I am lucky to have him, he is a saint — but does he know how lucky he is? My husband… gets to leave the house… He ventures out into the world… taking in the fresh air, talking to someone other than me, and focusing on things that don’t involve our family. Sometimes he meets a friend for a socially distanced coffee. He often returns with a spring in his step, a spring that hasn’t been in my step for months. No wonder he has the energy to do the laundry… I resent that he can walk away, head downstairs, or off to work and take that vacation.
A vacation at work, that is – earning money to pay the bills. Not least, for detergent and fabric softener.
In contrast to which, Ms Hendriksen recounts her own housebound sorrows. We learn, for instance, that,
Showers and personal hygiene are not daily occurrences, and when they do happen, it’s rushed and with at least one child at my feet. Some days I don’t brush my teeth at all.
After this detour into the bowel-wrenching miseries of “daytime sweatpants” and unbrushed teeth, and which in no way reflect on Ms Hendriksen and her organisational skills, we return to the issue at hand, i.e., the politics of laundry:
I don’t understand the need to fold the towels when we are late to get the kids in the bath; he doesn’t understand why getting into the bath a few minutes behind schedule is such a big deal, but having the towels folded and put away is essential.
High drama. The makings of a mini-series. And which, of course, brings us to the shortcomings of men:
What I’ve realised is that men are problem solvers. Have you ever unloaded an elaborate story of the ignorance of a friend or co-worker just to have your partner say, “Why don’t you just stop spending time with her?” He thinks that you’ve presented a problem, and he’s fixed it, why are you not patting him on the back? When in reality, all you wanted was for him to acknowledge that you were justified in feeling annoyed. So you can move on.
The unfeeling beast. Doesn’t he know that women want to spend time with people who irritate them, and who exasperate them, over and over again?
It is my choice to always be present with my children… But behind the scenes, he’s the one holding our household together… I know that I could not be the mother I want to be if he wasn’t the husband and father he is. But it is still hard not to hold it against him.
Because, once again, he goes to work. In the land of perpetual jolliness, where it’s all candyfloss and whistling.
Via Lady Cutekitten.
“‘Ahmad Al-Issa’? Is that an Irish name? He doesn’t look Irish.”
Faith an’ begorra, eh’m sure they’ll be after tellin’ us ’twas just a mishearing, and the dastardly fella’s name’s actually Emmett O’Lissa or summat o’ the like.
I’m rather pleased with that one. I made myself laugh. And I’m not even sorry.
Over at Disqus, I can “upvote” a comment without a whole lot of HTML.
Can you make that work here, David?
Can you make that work here, David?
It can, I think, be integrated, but it’s a bit of a faff and not without compromises. So I’m reluctant. I am, however, prepared to listen to readers tell me how wonderful I am.
So there’s that.
It can, I think, be integrated, but it’s a bit of a faff and not without compromises. So I’m reluctant.
I’m with you on this, David: The blog is fine the way it is. Every tweak or enhancement means more work, more risk, more stress. Anything that makes this blog less fun for you is to be avoided. (But please don’t remind me of that observation the next time I complain about the bar snacks.)
You are wonderful, David.
If I could “upvote” a particular comment without further effort, you would be even more wonderful.
Not living now in the UK, I had not noticed until now that this is the (first)* anniversary of “Two weeks to Flatten the Curve”.
Fifty two weeks later…
* Yes, I am an optimist. Why do you ask?
“‘Ahmad Al-Issa’? Is that an Irish name? He doesn’t look Irish.”
But but but … Syrian Muslims are STILL WHITE!!
It is interesting that she complains so much, I have been a stay-at-home mum, a working mum with husband, and a mum working full-time and looking after children by myself. The life of a stay-at-home mum is a doddle. What she leaves out is the meeting with other mums at least once or twice a week at the park to give the kids someone else to play with, ditto coffee outings with neighbours and friends, having playdates for children and the ability to have a home career or at least develop a creative interest in craft, art or literature. Really, it all just means being responsible for her own behaviour and organising herself. With so much help from her husband, she surely has a regime when she gets up early, organises the kids, cleans the house and has the rest of the day to herself and children, and has her own interest she pursues while children are playing, even if it is 15 minutes a time. It is all up to her, no-one else. Even if she had a job, she would whinge about that.
Syrian Muslims are STILL WHITE!!
Whhirrrr whir whiiiirrrrr.
@ Jen: “…being responsible for her own behaviour and organising herself.”
Unfortunately personal responsibility is no longer fashionable. She’s just playing ‘poor me, I’m a victim of my husband’s goodness; it’s not fair …’ I reckon she’s a very self-centred and even disturbed woman. She’ll make a ‘wonderful’ mother-in-law in the future when her children marry – if she allows them to grow independent from her.
Via Andy Ngo, a black man subjects an Asian woman to a racist tirade. The vile excuse for a man repeatedly calls her “chink”. In any dispute between strangers, American blacks are vastly, vastly more likely to spontaneously erupt with racial insults. Why? Because racism is widely accepted–even praised–in black America.
I thought we were to accomplish that via ping?
“…a black man subjects an Asian woman to a racist tirade”
It surely couldn’t be a ‘real’ Africa-American behaving this way. It must be a [white] Syrian in black-face causing racial tension and division because of Trump.
It surely couldn’t be a ‘real’ Africa-American behaving this way.
I big your pardon. Certainly a false flag operation by the Trumpist white supremacists. 🙂
It surely couldn’t be a ‘real’ Africa-American behaving this way.
I usually do not say “African-American” anymore, preferring “black American” as more honest. (Egyptians are African but not black. And then there are whites born in Africa. So to Hell with the politically correct language of lie, and to Hell with those who demand it.)
What’s more, when African blacks come to America to study or work, they often look at our “African Americans” and think “what is wrong with these fools?”
“I usually do not say “African-American” anymore, preferring “black American” as more honest.”
I was just being formal. On the other hand ‘black American’ doesn’t feel right as so many are clearly unhappy living in the richest country in the world which offers them every chance to advance themselves – if THEY can be bothered to try. In short they are a poor example of what it is to be ‘American’.
Heh. I could never get my mother to say ‘blacks’, she would always say ‘colored people’. As a teenager I found it embarrassing. Then along came the ‘African American’ term, which like pst I have refused to use based on everything he just said and more. Now the term ‘people of color’ is coming into vogue. I may start using the term ‘colored people’ again, in tribute to my mother. Maybe I can out woke the woke.
And then there are whites born in Africa
A friend of mine went to high school with a blonde, freckled South African Boer girl, who was deluged with scholarships when she applied to university. On paper she was an African-American Woman. A few of them tried to squirm out of giving them to her, but were unsuccessful because none of them were willing to admit that the scholarships were not for “African-Americans” but for black women.
Well, I don’t mean to downplay the difficulties of being an at-home mom to (presumably) small children.
Well you should. Like Jen I have been the stay-at-home while my wife was out earning good money.
I did all the jobs around the house and garden except giving the kids baths and buying their clothes. It was very nice and relaxing. And then they went to school — and it was fabulous!
With so much help from her husband, she surely has a regime….
She doesn’t manage to brush her teeth some days. If that’s a regime, it ought to be condemned by the UN.
Now the term ‘people of color’ is coming into vogue. I may start using the term ‘colored people’ again, in tribute to my mother.
Best of luck! Perhaps more people should do it and, if complaints are received, just look blank and say: “But it is exactly the same as ‘people of color’, how can you possibly be offended?”
I was going to muse on the strangeness of declaring that Syrians are white, but someone with 3 white grandparents is black, or ‘of colour’, but that would be a waste of time. Trying to put this malign nonsense in a logical context is pointless.
I thought we were to accomplish that via ping?
Ah, was that you? Bless you, sir. When standing at the sink, sipping coffee and not entirely awake, may you never be alarmed by the sudden proximity of your window cleaner, who’s appeared unannounced a day earlier than usual.
I’m an engineer. I solved the problem of my wife venting problems at me but not wanting a solution by the simple expedient of asking her to tell me in advance if she 1) wanted to vent, or 2) wanted help with a solution. Works great.
Of course, she was once an engineer, too.
the simple expedient of asking her to tell me in advance if she 1) wanted to vent, or 2) wanted help with a solution
There’s a place in the world for venting. I’ve done it, certainly. Sort of,
However, it’s a little odd to fish for sympathy, as if wronged and downtrodden, while simultaneously depicting your own domestic arrangements, the thing about which you’re venting, as on the whole quite favourable, and while speaking of your apparently conscientious and obliging partner in terms of jealousy and resentment. And while also revealing yourself to be somewhat disorganised and unable to accomplish even rudimentary oral hygiene.
It’s an unhappy combination, and not especially convincing.
A lot of people are criticizing the woman from the article. But isn’t it possible that we’re just miscategorizing the genre?
Granted, I haven’t actually read it, but maybe this isn’t one of those look-how-hard-my-life-is articles?
Maybe it’s one of those look-how-much-better-I-did-than you articles, with a few symbolic touches to make it look a bit like those look-how-hard-my-life-is articles?
Peel away the complaints, and what have you got?
I have a husband.
I already have children. More than one, in case you didn’t notice.
MY husband has a job.
MY husband helps me with household chores.
MY husband fixes things around the house.
MY husband is attentive to my emotional problems and tries to help. He’s not busy watching football like yours.
MY husband spends time with my children.
What have you got, bitches?
Maybe it’s one of those look-how-much-better-I-did-than you articles, with a few symbolic touches to make it look a bit like those look-how-hard-my-life-is articles?
Heh. Ms Hendriksen does seem to be trying to have it both ways.
Humblebragging has evolved to Oppressionbragging, perhaps.
I was just being formal.
In fact, I was not criticizing your choice of words, only using that as a jumping off point for my comment.
I may start using the term ‘colored people’ again, in tribute to my mother.
And “collard people’ for anyone who preserves the old culinary traditions of the South?
Now the term ‘people of color’ is coming into vogue.
How about ‘people of choler’ for the entire angry left regardless of race, sex, etc?
PST – I see the Miami New Times lays the blame for that bigoted tired squarely where it belongs: Trump referring to the Woohoo flu as the ‘China virus.’
Regarding the comments on Ms E’s oppressionbragging/humblebragging, it is striking how nearly she is one with the daughters of the horse-leech (“There be three things which are not satisfied, Yea four which sayeth not ‘It is Enough’ …), the point being that for this personality NOTHING will ever be good enough, and the Non-Goodness of everything then constitutes their justification for their eternal immiseration. Otherwise stated, “I’m not happy AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.”
Thing is, given the essentially excellent circumstances the writer describes at length, I am given to wonder if, somehow, this isn’t someone actually trying to take the piss (is that the expression, David?) with Scary Mommy, showing inescapably that for its slice of the demographic nothing, in fact, will ever be good enough? A species of blame-shaming, as it were?
Nah. Too complicated. Just write her off as “Bitchez be crazy.”
Er, I think that should be “horse-leach”. Apologies. Spell-check is not a reliable aid for older spellings.
(is that the expression, David?)
It is indeed. See also, ripping the piss. If you fancy a little regional flavour.
There’s a solution to women like this (greetings from 1960):
https://youtu.be/P2f3k8COM0E
No – horse-leech is correct, as in leech the bloodsucker, and not leach the seepage. Daughters of the horse-leech is an expression I hadn’t heard until now, but I know a few women who fit that to a T, and could have written the above article, too (as in sit at home on their fat unshowered asses playing games while hubby works and then does all the housework too. Although a couple of them have gotten part-time jobs recently, but then use that as an excuse for still not doing any housework). I’m going with Occam’s razor here – bitch be lazy. Maybe crazy too, but lazy and spoiled, mainly. Daughter of the horse-leech – I gotta remember that one.
It’s from Proverbs, 30:15 IIRC, and while the arguments over text and orthography are endless, the substance has stayed stuck in my memory: “The horseleech hath two daughters, crying Give, Give! There be three things which are never satisfied, Yea, four things say not, It is enough: the grave; and the barren womb; and the earth which is not filled with water; and the fire which saith not, It is enough.”
Seems apt enough for most of these people. I expect you’re right on the spelling, even if it actually refers to horse-doctors themselves — makes more sense.
Yes, “horse-leech” is an ancient name for “horse doctor” just as “leech” is an ancient word for doctor–in both cases, deriving from the ancient practice of medicinal blood-letting, and so in ancient times “leech” was not a derogatory word. Gotta keep the four humours (blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile) in balance, after all. There are probably some jokes lurking in this esoterica, but I need some coffee (which is probably bad because it will throw the black bile upon the yellow, or something.)
The Bible commentary that I have seen says that the text refers to the leech itself, not to the doctor, which is puzzling. But Proverbs is in the Old Testament, so I probably should consult Jewish commentary.
pst314, most of the Jewish commentaries there do say that it means the creature (like ComputerLabRat wrote, and like your source says). The Hebrew word is עֲלוּקָה (ʿaluka), and it’s cognate with Arabic عَلَقَة (ʿalaqa), with the same meaning. The comparison is indeed with the way a leech sucks blood endlessly.
(Where the “horse” part in the KJV translation comes from, I don’t know. Maybe it’s in the same vein – pardon the pun – as “horseradish,” so called because of its large size.)
pst314, most of the Jewish commentaries there do say that it means the creature
So the original Hebrew only says “leech”, not “horse leech”? That is enlightening. Thank you very much.
You may be right about the King James Version, although it has been criticized on other counts for inaccuracy of translation.
She doesn’t want her problems fixed because her “problems” are very little and complaining is immensely satisfying.
Out of the crooked timber of humanity…
“What she leaves out is the meeting with other mums at least once or twice a week at the park to give the kids someone else to play with…”
I’ve wondered from time to time who watches Oprah, The View, and As The World Turns, if housework is such a neverending grind.