Coffee Crone: Taming Coffee Blog

June 10 2006

Gadzooks, I'm a Wife!!!

My husband RT had to go into the office this morning, Saturday be damned. My plan was to go to the Farmer's Market and get some things done at home. I had told RT I would bring him some lunch from home around noonish, so we could eat together.

I was ready to leave for the market when I realized that I had forgotten to get cash from him before he left. In the age of debit cards, "real" money doesn't pass through my hands all that often. The Farmer's Market doesn't know from plastic. I called RT to tell him I would be stopping at the bank machine and to ask him if he needed anything from downtown. He told me that he had forgotten something he needed, and he would give me cash if I brought it out to him. No problem. I even packed up his lunch, even though it was a long way until noon, and our changed plans meant he would be eating it solo.

I had a great time at the Farmer's Market. We will eat well for yet another week. On the way out, I passed by a stand selling Ukrainian sausage and pierogi plates. Hummm, RT sure loves that stuff, so I bought some, and yup, headed back to his office with it. On my way there, I had an ah ha moment. You see, when I was a busy single mom, with a demanding full time career, I often said that I needed a wife. This morning, I finally realized that I have somehow become the wife I always dreamt of having.

RT grew up in the 50s, in a small prairie town. His mom wasn't much of a cook, but dinner was on the table, regular as clockwork, every evening. The laundry was done on Monday, and the clean clothes were neatly folded and put away the same day. RT's dad earned a good living, and pretty much left anything house-ish to his wife. It wasn't argued, or debated; that's just the way things were back then.

RT went away to the big city for University, where he was exposed to feminism and women who expected to be treated as equals. It was a confusing time, not just for small town prairie guys, but for women like me, who, as we grew up, lived in homes that were traditional, in that 50s way.

When RT married his first wife, and I married my first husband, we joined the ranks of the domestically confused. It was the era of consciousness raising groups and lists. Chores were divided up, not according to gender, but, supposedly, by interest and gender neutral ability. The goal was equality, at least in terms of the time spent doing those things that made it onto the list.

The intent was to create a household where no-one felt enslaved or inferior. The results, at least for both me and RT, were very different. Simple things, like unloading the dishwasher, became tests of our commitment to equality. An upswept floor translated into a lack of respect. In truth, it was still all about power, but this power struggle was occurring between partners who had been awakened to the ideas of liberation and equality before the culture caught on to the notion that lists of chores just didn't cut it.

A whole lot of marriages failed beecause even though our minds embraced the beliefs behind the women's movement, we had been raised differently, and the movement back then required adherence to an orthodoxy that, in retrospect, was just plain silly.

That was a long time ago. For the last 6 years, I have been a full time stay-at-home person (no kids in our house these days). RT has been the breadwinner, and my role has been, in part, to support his career and make his home life pleasant. Could anything be more 50ish?

Well, yup, in fact, the 50s were far more 50ish than this sort of situation turns out to be these days. I don't feel particularly hard done by when I unload the dishwasher or fold the laundry. Our relationship can't be summed up by who does what chore. RT comes home from work and finds a reasonably neat house and dinner on the table because I have time to do it, and he doesn't. Career related problems and decisions belong to both of us, and my sense is that a good part of his success has come from his incorporating my ideas and my skill set into his work life.

We are absolutely equals, in all the things that count.

The bonus in this is that I get to enjoy all the good things that were true about 50s men, while having in-the-bone knowledge that my husband loves and respects me, even on those days where the most noteworthy thing I have accomplished is making coffee filters out of craft felt. That means that I can feel loved and protected, without feeling guilty for wanting or needing that from my man.

It's a win-win situation. After all, he can come home, plant a big kiss on my face, pat me on the bum, and ask me to get him a beer without having to worry that I'm going to hit him over the head with a rolling pin.

posted by taming at 12:13 | link | comments (4)|
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Comments:

#1 11 June 2006 - 03:15

yikes, creeping non-coffee content!

howard

#2 11 June 2006 - 06:42

Uh huh. I'm thinking of adding a not_coffee tag so people who are not impressed with this aspect of my personality can avoid my adventures with caffeine entirely.

taming

#3 11 June 2006 - 18:03

I like all your posts, but this one especially. Really nice : )

InMyLife

#4 12 June 2006 - 03:36

This really made me think: "even though our minds embraced the beliefs behind the women's movement, we had been raised differently, and the movement back then required adherence to an orthodoxy that, in retrospect, was just plain silly."

Getting married in the mid-80s, we still weren't used to meshing the theory with the practice and I often have chastised myself for quitting grad school shortly after marriage.

hmmm, hmmm.

I do, however, think all orthodoxy is silly.

--ez

Anonymous

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