At a party the other night, a man asked me, “Does your husband know how lucky he is?”
Minutes later, a woman—quite possibly the man’s wife—asked, “How do you put up with doing everything at home?”
Evidently, I am a modern day conundrum: the envy or the scorn of people I meet.
My husband and I have what might be considered a throwback arrangement. In broad strokes, he makes the money, and I take care of everything else.
Now think of any of those cliché comments you’ve heard about arrangements like ours, and guaranteed, I’ve heard them too. “What do you do all day?” “Must be nice to stay at home.” “How do you afford that?” And, of course, “I don’t know how you do it.” In my case, this last one isn’t offered in a tone suggesting, Wow, you must be so pulled together and organized (I am not.) More like, Wow, the suffragette movement was wasted on you.
Read the rest of my take on the division of labour at our house here.