And Antics Ensue

We're leaving for the airport in a few minutes, and my anxiety level is at Threat Level Midnight. 

I've decided I'm finish doing pre-trip chores.  Initially when I envisioned leaving Bill and Nathan home while I left town, I imagined having every possible household chore and errand up to date before my departure.  Every room would be sparkling and disinfected.  I'd have procured all kinds of groceries so Bill would have ingredients to make simple meals.  The dry cleaning would be picked up and I would have recently taken the car to the car wash. 

Instead, I just got most of the clutter picked up, and I've been providing Bill with verbal instructions about what needs to be done.  Like, "We're down to the last carton of Nathan's purple [soy] milk.  You'll need to go to the store to avoid a crisis."

I'm incredibly proud of the fact that I didn't leave a single Post-it note anywhere with written directions for Bill.  I really had to fight my control freak tendencies on that one, but I think my husband and I have finally gotten to a point where we're sharing enough of the childcare and household duties that he has some clue as to how to run things in my absence. 

Though yesterday Nathan did ask, concerned, "Who's gonna wash the dishes and set the table while you're gone?"

I feel bad that we've modeled such traditional gender roles for him. 

Anyway, I'd like to think that by the end of the week, Bill will have cultivated a new appreciation for what I do around the house.  Lately I've been thinking we're sort of like the chocolate factory episode of I Love Lucy, what with my recent return to employment and Bill's upcoming stint at domesticity.  I don't know what it says that a 1950s sitcom is still so highly relatable.  Either Lucy was way ahead of her time, or else we have not come very far as a society in terms of gender roles. 

In trying to find the time for paid employment from home lately, I have realized my husband often seems so grumpy and stressed out.  And maybe in spending a week caring for the house and child, Bill will come to understand why I often seem so grumpy and stressed out. 

Unfortunately the antics of math textbook editing are nowhere near as hilarious as those of a chocolate factory assembly line.  I very seldom find myself having to cram things in my mouth when the work starts backing up.  Or maybe I do, but the cramming is more metaphorical than literal.