the (temporary) Death of Feminism (in our house)
So yesterday morning I was folding the laundry while my 7-year-old was home (being a "late bird," he goes to school at 9:30 a.m., another merciless cut into the workday). "Josh," I said, "why don't you give me a hand? I'll teach you how. You know, when you grow up, how are you going to know how to take care of yourself?"
"I'll just let my wife do it," he said.
My life flashed before my eyes -- particularly the part of my life that I spent watching my mom cleaning house and vowing I would never ever be a domestic slave.
It's actually not that he doesn't see his dad doing chores -- dishes, laundry, garbage, raking -- or that we haven't made chores for kids an issue in our house. But somehow, Josh has gotten the impression, just by seeing me more repeatedly doing these things, since I've got that quote unquote flexible job, that they are, gaaack, women's work.
I've been passionate about being around the house when my kids are home. One parent has to be, if at all possible, and the dirty secret is I prefer it. But this was nearly enough to send me out looking for full-time office work.......