Today, I am thinking about the defining roles that Eric and I carry in our house.
He is the person that takes care of all the breaks, leaks, grass mowin, animal feeding, tire kicking, and big furniture moving. You know all the big male stuff that little ole' me can't handle.
I do the women's work. I know its sexist but my dad calls it that. Eric insinuates it. E is already jumping on the bandwagon with, "Hey Mom, what's for dinner?" and "I need clean socks!" Even the baby totally knows who to turn to when tummy is empty or boo boos need to be kissed. I do what I can to keep the house somewhat presentable. I am no Martha Stewart, but I am what they were given and I think they are satisfied for the most part.
And you know what? I totally love it. Sure, I may act offended sometimes when I come home and they are laying across the bar barely able to lift their limp, malnourished bodies because between the two of them (Conner is still totally innocent here) they can't figure out that a (made by them) pb&j will totally take that hunger pain away until mom can get in here and make dinner.
The real job I am questioning, is the one of the financial planner.
The money distributor.
The bill payer.
The financial. decision. maker.
I don't wanna do that anymore.
I have always been the one to pay the bills, calculate the budget and keep things rockin along.
We have had to make some drastic cuts these last couple of months and since I handle the money, I kinda feel like I am the bad guy handing out the meager allowances and cheep stipends for our weekly needs.
Eric refuses to keep up with the balance of the checkbook which makes ME have to tell him what is in there when he wants to make a purchase.
I kinda hate it.
We work so very hard and I just don't wanna be the doom and gloom of spend thrift all the time.
Sometimes I want HIM to give me my allowance and let me skip off freely while he handles the cable bill. HMMPH