Baby Steps...itsy, bitsy,.teeny, weeny. baby steps

So about 2 weeks ago, I decided that I wanted help around here. Really decided. Like made a list decided. It was really very simple (I think).

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Sebastian is responsible for cleaning the bibs, highchairs, and managing toy clean-up. I get to put up leftovers, clean the pots and pans, counters, stove, table, and sweep. We just take turns on emptying the dishwasher. Tuesdays and Thursdays we swap. And we even it out on the weekends.

I know. I am a tyrannous wife. I have eliminated joy, relaxation, and fun from my husband who now has (as he put it), "chores". Which I must add that he did make note that we should make exceptions to their completion if we are having a "hard" week. And I believe his example was, "like, when you have a test", and then he added, "or when I've had a hard day".

Just about every day is a hard day for him and I strongly believe he was creating loopholes, but hey-I'm easy going....sordof.

Well, I understand that change is hard. Straying from the norm can take all sorts of time, and this is a work in progress. Translation: Sebastian has been having a hard couple of weeks,... I guess. But, I know that there is a period of acclimating that needs to take place with one's new found responsibilities-especially after three years of not doing some of these things.

Tonight, I was at the grocery store with Sebi when my phone rang.

him: "Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?"

her: "no, I need to buy detergent."

him: "Oh, o.k."

It's his turn to empty the dishwasher, and by golly! he's making an effort. This makes me happy....for the rest of the grocery store trip and ride home. Because, when I got home to cook dinner, I noticed:

The plates around the stove were askew. My pan was sitting at an angle which seemed funny, and I noticed that the stove plates were set horizontal instead of vertical. He had cleaned the stove. I know I should rejoice. I know I should have hands held high. There should probably be a Hallelujah shouted out.......BUT,

Did I ever mention that I don't like Sebastian coming home to a dirty house? Now, I'm not hitting stellar records, but I would say that a good 8 out of 10 nights, I make sure that the kitchen is tidy along with the living area. No dirty counters. No dirty dishes. No dirty table. No toys thrown everywhere.

So, my husband had apparently cleaned the counters, stove, and table which I had just cleaned before he got home. It was nice to cook on a spanking clean stove, but I knew it was going to get dirty. I weighed the mention, and rolled the dice...

her: "um, you know that the cleaning usually takes place after the dinner, right? because, that's when the mess is made?"

him: "well, I can't be doing those things after a certain hour. I have to get up at 6:00 in the morning. so, I can not do any of that after 8:00, or 8:30.

her: "um, it's 7:30 now"

And what I wanted to say was,

I sure would like my time-clock, so I can clock out at a given hour!

*the hims and hers are out there to protect the parties involved. I never said "we" had those conversations. assume what you will...

And now, I'm off to clean the stove, counters and table. Sebi helped me sweep earlier, and I went ahead and did the pots and pans myself.

Enough Is Enough

Alright, so my husband has chosen the fulfilling career as a teacher. He has already reported for duty for the new school year and we are both thrilled.....except for the fact that he won't get a paycheck until the end of the month. We, being a family of 5, need that check -like a month ago. So my husband lovingly works at the restaurant to be able to bring home the bacon in our time of need. Granted, he is taking on more responsibility having to work both jobs and I recognize that sacrifice he has been forced to make for the sake of our family. Normally I'm fine having to silently (and by silently I mean whining to my girlfriends) know that I too in turn have to take on extra responsibilities when Sebastian isn't home. But tonight, when Sebi uttered the 6 words I dread most when my husband is gone, I swore that this was enough already.

"Mom, there's a bug over here."

Translation. Mom, come and get this bug out of my bathtub. This bug was a cockroach. I do not like cockroaches and that is the understatement of the century. I cry. I scream. I stand on beds and pant my way through their disposal... which is my husband's job. I don't throw many job titles his way. I'm pretty darn flexible as far as I'm concerned. Trash, I throw it out. Lawn needs to be mowed, no problem. "We need to take the door handle off because Sebi locked it shut again"- just bring me the screwdriver and a paperclip and I'm on it. But the bugs are SEBASTIAN'S JOB.

So I immediately ordered Sebi out of the tub ready to tell him the bath is over and walk away from this. Meanwhile, he is looking at me to actually solve this problem. So I head to the kitchen for a slotted spoon (thanks Megan for the birthday present 3 years ago) and a bowl, and I retrieve said roach and place in the bowl. I'm afraid I may have to burn them both now, and I am praying that when I finally muster up the energy to go and pick the bowl up, the roach is still in it.

Well, maybe not.