My Husband Cleans, and That's a Problem

I know.  We've all got 99 problems, but a husband who cleans 'aint one.

Except for me, it is.  And not a problem in an "I've got to change this, I won't stand for it" type of way.  I'm not stupid.  I realize when I've been handed a precious gift.  Its a problem in a "Mariah has issues she has to overcome by the grace of God" type of way.  In a "My husband nearly lost his head today" sort of way.

This picture has nothing to do with this story, except that it also occurred today.
And yes, it was this amazing.

Let me explain.

About a month ago, Handsome decided that he wanted to have a cleaner house, and he was going to do something about it.  This change was motivated by many things, notably RG's impending mobility, and the desire to model responsible, adult behavior for our bambina.  Good things, really.  And he was serious about his willingness to do the cleaning.

I should be thrilled.  And part of me is thrilled.  Its really nice that he does the dishes, and knows where the vacuum (one "c", two "u"'s, in case you have trouble with that word, too) cleaner is kept.  The problem was that I had trouble listening to him say "I am going to keep the kitchen more clean" and not hearing "You don't keep the kitchen clean enough".  It wasn't what he was saying, and it wasn't implied, but it was heard, all the same.

Poor guy, he thinks I'm loony and wanted to know why I kept twisting the things he said around into something negative.  This all came to a head today, when he asked me, as though it were a new idea, if I could maybe, after Riley was done playing with her toys, pick them back up.  I nearly came. un. glued.  And my thought process was 100% defensive, 100% prideful, and 100% wrong.  I actually went through the stages of grieving, for some weird reason.

Denial:

"Oh no.  OH NO HE DI'NT.  He is not coming up in here and telling me my business.  Is he telling me how to keep house?  Seriously?  No.  No way.  This isn't happening."

Anger:

"Like I don't do that already?  Like I don't pick up after her?  I mean, seriously, I didn't do it this morning, but for the past 9 months I've been picking up after her, and for the past 5 years I've been picking up after him, and if he thinks he's going to pass judgement ON ME..."

Bargaining:

"Well, if he thinks he can say these things about me, I'm going to unload on him where I think he's failing.  That's right.  I might not have picked up after RG this morning, but he left his pants in the bathroom..."

Depression:

"I can't believe he'd says something so hurtful.  Why doesn't he appreciate what I do?  Does he think its easy, being basically a single parent over 50% of the time?  Why is he so mean?  My life is so hard, and he doesn't care."

If we're being honest here, I spent about 90% of the time in the "Anger" stage, rushed through "Bargaining" into "Depression", and might have skipped back to "Anger" for a while.  I was having a disproportionate reaction to the events.  Sure, maybe he wasn't wording things in the best way possible.  But he wasn't attacking me, I just wasn't getting his message.  So I sat down across the room, and I listened to him.  And when I found my mind wandering back to "Anger" land, and the voice in my head getting all sassy, I scolded myself.  "You look at him," I scolded, "and you pay attention to your husband.  You respectfully listen, and you do it now."  If you've never scolded yourself before (silently - c'mon people, I'm not crazy), I highly recommend it.  Unless you're a strong-willed child, in which case you do what you want.  

Anyhow, when I finally shushed my own sassy-pants-self and listened to what my dear heart was saying, I realized what was going on.  For years, the home has been my domain.  I would say I've done about 90% of the work, and I think Handsome would agree.  And suddenly, he was taking more of a leadership role in the running of the household, and my toes were feeling stepped on.  But you know what?  It is a good thing for him to be the leader of the house.  And it is a very good thing to have someone helping me clean the house.  And it is an especially good thing that he now knows where (most) things belong, and I don't have to tell him where to find everything in his own home.  

My pride was in the way.  He was saying "I want to help you" and I was hearing "You aren't doing enough by yourself".  Not the same message.  He told me that, since I had taken on most of the baby duties, both by preference and necessity, and I have a more stressful day job, that he wanted to do more around the house to lighten my load.  Which, once I reached the acceptance stage, made me say to myself: "AND YOU HAD A PROBLEM WITH THAT?!?!"  

Communicating.  Its tricky.  But its important.  And we'll probably have another 3 or 4 conversations like todays, until I'm good and adjusted.  But my goodness.  To come home and find the dished put away and the floors swept, and a husband who is (brace yourself) happy about it??  Worth it.  So while this story may not sound as mushy gushy romantic as the one I wrote just a few days ago, trust me - this is love.  I'd tell you all that he cleaned today, but then I'd just be bragging.

<3 M.