Responsibilities

There are only two responsibilities which the husband holds in this house: Watching the boys during my morning shower and taking out the trash.

During my 5-minute showers (actually, I shower in about 2 minutes and dry off and get dress in the remaining 3 minutes!), he is supposed to watch the boys.  But often, Younger Monkey crawls all the way up the stairs by himself.  By the time I rush out of the shower, he’s crying so hard from having dragged himself upstairs all alone.  Yesterday, when I carried him downstairs after I was done, I saw the husband staring off into space as Older Monkey was tearing up the living room.  I don’t know why I’m bothering to blog about this.  His complete negligence should come as no surprise to me.  And yet, hope springs eternal.  I’m in a constant state of renewed hoped that the extra 4 hours he sleeps above me every night offers him the strength to engage in direct eye contact with our children for the full 5-minute shower.

The husband’s fulfillment of his other responsibility is equally laughable.  His idea of taking out the trash is emptying the bin from his downstairs office and wheeling the large cans down the driveway.  I am never allowed to speak a word of this task to him.  I cannot request that he take out the kitchen trash, at least not without his sneering and my reciprocating with some grand favor.  I cannot remind him to take out the trash in any of the other 5 cans around the house.  Though honestly, how he can remember to fill these particular receptacles with refuse yet manage to utterly forget their existence when it comes time to emptying them is beyond my comprehension.

~ by complaineyjaney on September 24, 2008.