50/50
Amelia and I have been married for 5 years. Quite frankly it took us by surprise when our little Emily popped up in the picture after only one year of marriage, but quite frankly (exhausted as we are), we can’t imagine our lives for one second without her antics. It also helps she’s decided to become best friends with Pepper, our 10-year-old Labrador.
Ever since we met, Amelia and I always talked about how we’d both like to pursue our professional dreams and still raise and enjoy our family. I can’t believe I’m saying this but, in a sense, the pandemic has been good for us. Amelia’s brokerage firm found out she can be as productive, if not more, working from home. Being a retail consultant, I’ve also found out that travel can be better organized, and I can do 80 % of my work from home so, to put it poetically, we’re living the dream!
The thing we always clashed on as soon as the pandemic hit was house chores since neither of us were especially fond of them. But, having Emily, we decided we had better show her we are responsible adults (I guess we must go beyond feeding and clothing a small human!). So, we split all house responsibilities down the middle. The two we despised more were the best-balanced: taking out the trash and ironing. Nontheless, I’ve come to find I enjoy lugging bags outside because I can get some of that clean, crisp, suburban air. Amelia, as it turns out, enjoys those hours of peace and quiet ironing, without me complaining about how the heat’s too high or Emily screaming about cartoons.
However, last week was revealing for me. After dropping Amelia and Emily at the airport for a mum-daughter trip, I realized with horror that I’d be visiting a potential customer tomorrow and, of course, my one nice dress shirt is hanging crumpled in the closet from the only last time I went out looking like an adult, about two weeks ago for half an hour. Panic started setting in because an iron to me is as alien and frightening as a nuclear weapon (this is NOT an exaggeration). Back in the house, as I marched in horror towards the laundry room, crumpled shirt in hand, I experienced a revelation. Amelia’s, voice, genius that she is, rushed to my head. The words “new product”, “deCrease”, and “won’t have to iron” resonated clear as a bell.
Confidently, I marched in the laundry room, grabbed the brand spanking new can of deCrease as if wielding a life-saving weapon, and sprayed my hung-up crumpled shirt. Seconds later I was done, with the satisfaction of having conquered an impossible task. I left the shirt to dry while I showered (yes, I went to the airport in sweats), shaved, and finished my daily routine. Come the time for my meeting, I got ready with my crisp, decreased shirt, and went out to conquer the world.
Nowadays, I no longer dread being left alone with ANY ironing to do. Our only goal now is to teach our 4-year-old to take out the trash! (That’s a joke).