I was discussing the oh-so delicate subject of housework with my closest
mummy friend Mich the other day. She
told me her neighbour (who doesn’t have a job and has two kindy days a week for
her kids) was upset because her husband has been hassling her about not doing
enough housework. He wants to know,
when the kids are gone two days a week and she’s not working, why the dishes
still don’t get done and the washing basket is still full.
Now, in days gone by, I would have immediately pulled on my
riding boots and mounted my high horse:
“How DARE he? Why doesn’t he do a load of washing? Men, what do they know…” etc.
And Mich would have saddled up right behind me, “It’s not all the
woman’s responsibility! She has two kids! Why doesn’t he understand!” and so on.
But now, I have two kids and a full time job. Mich has two kids and a part-time job AND
she’s studying to be a teacher. And the
question we both wanted to ask but didn’t was, “Well… why isn’t the housework
getting done?”
But we’d NEVER voice the question out loud. Here’s why:
‘Busy’ is like pain: it’s different for every person. As a single woman, I used to think I was
busy. I worked, I had my parents, I had
a social life, there was the gym and parties and boys. Then I got married and had a child and
realised up till that point, I had no
idea what busy was. Then I had a
second child, and when friends with one baby would say, “I just don’t have any
time!” I would roll my eyes and think, You
don’t know how easy you’ve got it…
Then I went back to work full-time, and I often wonder what in the world
was I doing before with the eight hours a day I didn’t have to spend on my
job. And working mums with three or more
kids probably look down on me and think, “Slack.” Don’t even get me started on Octo-mum…
And that’s the thing – everybody
believes they are busy. You say to an
unemployed homeless man, “Gee, you look like a busy person,” and he’ll launch
into, “Yes!!! I spend all day hunting
through bins for tinfoil, then I have to set up my box, and the Salvo’s are on
the other side of town, so I lose an hour getting to and from the soup
kitchen…”
So this neighbour lady probably does think she’s busy.
What’s she doing with the two days a week she’s spending alone? Who knows, but I bet if you asked her, she
could list off a myriad of tasks which fill in her time.
So I shall stable my high horse: just like I wouldn’t judge someone else’s
pain, I won’t judge anyone else’s idea of busy.