joeyfullystated

Once this tweet was posted, a follower felt the need to tell me about how his mother taught her sons to cook and clean and how men should do this and children should do that and yadda yadda — three whole @s he gave me about how fabulously he’d been raised. Of course, I wished his mother had spent a bit more time teaching him manners, but because my mother did a good job at that, I let it lie and quietly unfollowed him instead of telling him to go @ himself.
The man who wrote those comments has since deleted them.

It really pissed me off. Beneath my crick of anger, there’s an ocean of resentment.

FIRST OF ALL, that dude dunno my life. Twelve people know my life and he ain’t one of em.

Second, it’s a tweet. It’s fewer than 140 characters of a story. A blip into my psyche at any given moment. There are many, many parents who relate to that tweet. It’s not like my family will beat me black and blue if I don’t kitchen.

Third, my kids can make brownies. All four of them can make brownies. Not all four of them can successfully melt chocolate in a double broiler, which is why I’d said I’d bake the brownies to begin with. Have you ever smelled burnt chocolate? Have you cleaned burnt chocolate from a pan? Have you any idea how much baking chocolate costs?
While Sassy and Moo are not candidates for Master Chef Junior, they do cook and bake things.

I don’t know if The Mister can bake brownies. This does not bother me, because I bake awesome brownies, and I truly enjoy baking them more than eating them.
The Mister can cook basic foods. He can sustain life with his kitchen skills.
For a short time, he wanted to learn to cook more, and that was a bad experience for both of us and I do not ask him to prepare edibles and he is glad.

Fourth, my kids can, and do, wash dishes plenty. If you asked Sassy and Moo who does the dishes in the house, they’d climb up on a Fiestaware cross and tell you a sob story of how “I’m literally the only person who ever does dishes.” Both of them would tell you that.

I prefer eating from clean dishes so Sassy does the bulk of the dishes. There are times that I suspect Sadie licking the dishes would get dishes cleaner than when Moo washes them, and woe to anyone who doesn’t inspect their dishes before use, and Moo spends a considerable amount of time redoing dishes, but still, she does dishes.
Sometimes The Mister does dishes. Usually, he does this when we have house guests, so that all the women think he’s a swell guy, but I’d say twice a year or so, he does them when no one’s even lookin.

He does the dishes more than I take out the trash. Last time I took the trash out, there was snow on the ground and I’m not sure it was this last winter…
I take recyclables, but I almost never take out the trash. My husband teases me about how much trash I make and it’s become a joke between us. I’ll say, “Baby! Come look at all this trash I’ve made for you!” and then he’ll either grumble about how I could get a job making trash or he’ll high-five me and say, “Good job, Baby!”

Do you think if The Mister tweeted about how much trash I make and how he’s always taking out the trash, some woman would @ him about how her father taught all his daughters to take out the trash and it’s a real shame his wife and kids don’t do that for him?!?
(Honestly, on Twitter, any @ is possible. Most of the time, the @s don’t even make sense.)

Do you know that when I tell people my husband goes to the store for me, loads and unloads the car for me, etc, etc, etc — virtually anything my husband helps me with — people think I’ve won some sorta prize?
Additionally, if I bring my husband a plate of food or iron his shirts, people think I’m livin in 1956 and declare it sexist.
These things make me sad.

I mean, if it’s all supposed to be so goddamned equal, why does anyone make the whole bed instead of just their side?
I know, I’m a Bad Feminist.

If you’re partnered with someone, they should be doin nice things for you. What, I cannot say. I can tell you that any healthy relationship exists because of care, and care should be a constant. Happily married people are all about the little things.
Happily married people do not sit around measuring out tit for tat, makin tick marks over how many times they’ve changed the toilet paper roll or whatever.

Have you even lived with anyone else?
People are awful to live with. All of us.
I have lived with me for 42 years and it has not been easy. I am moody and bitchy and fault-finding, I hate to be woken up, I need a lot of personal space, my tongue is quick and sharp, and worst of all, I like everything a certain way.
To make up for this, I’m an excellent cook.
I have lived with The Mister for 17 years. He is grumpy and easily angered, and he procrastinates, and he’s always losing things, he doesn’t listen, and worst of all he forgets everything.
To make up for this, he’s charming as fuck.

If you want to be treated like royalty, stay single and hire out.

It is my own personal experience that we all want what we do not have, so I’m sure my husband is wondering why I never get laryngitis, and I am wondering why he doesn’t go get his ears flushed, and you’re all wondering if we see the irony of that situation.

Blah blah blah blah blah.
Huh?
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Huh?
Oh never fucking mind.

Anyway, if you think there’s something wrong with a person who makes dinner, cleans the kitchen, and then bakes brownies, then you are definitely not invited to dinner here and I do not wish you a happy Friday.*

*Certain Restrictions May Apply