Debra Pickett

There's what you say and there's what you mean.

So there was that whole conversation in which R. said I should, if I'm having trouble sleeping, feel free to wake him up. You know, so he could share in the joys of pregnancy, too. And I responded that I probably wouldn't do that -- on purpose. much. -- because there was no point in both of us being sleepless and cranky.

Then there was the reality of me waking him up at 2:30 this morning to ask, "Do only dogs get hip dysplasia?"

[Answer: Apparently not. Though it seems unlikely that I have it, despite the fact that I'm sure this is what it feels like.]

He responded with something mildly comforting, like that leg cramps are apparently very common in pregnant women. (I love that he read a couple of the pregnancy books without telling me.) He also mentioned that cows get hip dysplasia, too, which is not as rude as it sounds because we actually own cows. (Long story.)

Then, he went back to sleep.

Two hours later, when I noticed him stirring slightly, I asked if he wanted to play cards. (Isn't that what people with insomnia do?)

This made him laugh. But he declined. Largely because I don't actually know any card games. And because he knew I'd fall back asleep eventually.

I am trying to come up with some sort of hard-and-fast rule on what constitutes being a pain-in-the-ass versus just being honest about one's needs. So far, I'm just making it up as I go along.

And, so far, pretty much anything I want is reasonable. Right?

Posted by Debra Pickett at 11:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I was pretty strongly resolved that, when I got married, I would not become a nagging wife. But I quickly came to understand the temptation.

It's deeply strange to me that while my mind can lock in on a full trash can or an empty tissue box or a dishwasher in need of unloading, R.'s brain simply does not process things in the same way. I look around our home and see jobs that need to be done. He doesn't.

Of course he always offers to help, but it seems weird to ask someone to do something so quick and menial and basic. So, in the beginning, I'd just do everything myself.

This made him feel weird and inadequate, like I was having to clean up after him. "Just ask me to do it," he'd say.

I did start asking, but not much happened. It was like he'd agree, in principle, that the trash needed to be taken out, but he wouldn't actually do it. Or, he wouldn't do it immediately and then he'd forget about it and then I, not wanting to ask twice, lest that be counted as nagging, would just do it myself. Which would kind of lead back to whole weird and inadequate thing, but with a side helping, also, of "judged to be a useless slob."

So that wasn't good.

Continue reading "Housework chronicles, part 64" »

Posted by Debra Pickett at 07:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Something in me just snapped on Sunday afternoon.

I'd been home from New York for about 36 hours and our place was still in its mid-renovation state of dustiness and mess. My suitcase, open but not fully unpacked, was on the bedroom floor, along with a scattering of dirty clothes my husband had left there during his week here alone.

A mountain of laundry -- sheets, towels and yet more dirty clothes -- was shoved in the closet.

The bathrooms, mostly finished, with new tile, new vanities and sinks, newly painted walls and newly hung blinds and towel bars, were grimy with sawdust and grit. All the stuff that had been cleared out of the old cabinets had been thrown back, haphazardly, into the new ones.

In a weird way, I was sort of proud of myself for not caring. Ever since we first started dating (and particularly since we've been married) I've been trying to master the whole laid-back, unfazed-by-anything attitude that allows R. to maintain a constant even keel.

Continue reading "More on Housework" »

Posted by Debra Pickett at 09:48 AM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

New York Times blogger Judith Warner has been weighing in on the whole opt-out revolution thing over the last two days.

Like the rest of us, she can't help noting the way things are at her house, which sounds, actually, a lot like mine.

I'm at a loss to explain how it is that housework has come as a giant surprise to those of us who were actually required to read The Second Shift in college, but it really has. Somehow, I guess we thought that because we have careers like our fathers', we'd get the come-home-to-dinner-on-the-table prize package that they got, too.

Posted by Debra Pickett at 06:06 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

For this experiment, you'll need . . .

1 husband
1 dry cleaning receipt
several items in need of dry cleaning

Continue reading "A fun experiment to try at home" »

Posted by Debra Pickett at 07:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

There was a point this weekend when I was wearing an apron and using a rolling pin. With no intentional irony.

Continue reading "More wifely behavior" »

Posted by Debra Pickett at 05:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

This morning, after hearing the weather and traffic reports, I drowsily said to my husband, "Please be careful driving."

Continue reading "On wifely behavior, part two" »

Posted by Debra Pickett at 07:03 AM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

I hate to obsess about this, but, seriously, what is the deal with housework?

Continue reading "On wifely behavior" »

Posted by Debra Pickett at 06:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)