Before I launch into this post (and I am not entirely sure where it will go, but it will need to happen in about 20 minutes because I have lunch duty), let me begin by saying my hubby is pretty darn good as far as hubbies and daddies go. He cooks for us almost every day. Considering how much I love to eat, he could do little else but that, and it would not matter too much to me. [Note that a few years ago, I cooked for the family but was "fired" after a week or several. No one appreciated what I thought tasted good.]
He also keeps the "mechanics" of the house running. He has black-topped the driveway, mixed cement to fix our crumbling steps, and planted grass. He moves heavy stuff around, figures out some electrical things, and when I fail at toilet unclogging, he helps me there too.
Unlike a lot of dads, he spends time with his kid (though, he will be the first to admit not nearly what I spend with her), and is happy to help out with physical projects and certain school subjects.
He is not romantic, but considering he is married to me, that works out okay; I cannot tell you the last time either one of us bought the other a Valentine's Day card.
But as good of a guy as he is, I just don't understand some of the things he does. I can't imagine that most or even half the guys do these sorts of thing, but I have been married only once and have never lived with a beau, so I don't have any comparisons. But here goes.
J and I went to my mom's overnight a few weeks ago, as we typically do about once every two to three weeks. Just before we left, I sadly spilled coffee on my white sheets, so I threw them, some towels and a few other whites in the washer just before we left. I asked hubby if he would put the things in the drier when they were done and run it. I said he did not even need to take them out of the drier; they could sit there until we returned the next day. Hubby's response, "Well, that is pretty much doing the laundry; that is the most work." What the what? And here I thought sorting the clothes, checking and spraying for stains, and folding/hanging up clothes and putting them away involved most of the work. Who knew transferring a pile of clothes about two feet and pushing a button were the most work?!
This next thing has been a source of frustration for both of us for years, but I am hoping all of you can see it my way. Probably about every other day, I remove the dishcloth from the sink and take it to the laundry room. I often forget to replace it, but there is a good reason not to replace it with a clean one: often times the dishcloth will fall in the sink, getting it wet. As you probably know, a wet dishcloth, particularly one that sits in the sink, gets gross pretty fast. But hubby always points out when I forget to replace it, saying it is annoying for him to have to get another one. However, these dishcloths are a couple feet away! Please see Exhibit A, below, so you can see for yourself the distance from the butcher's block on the left, where we keep our clean dishcloths, to the sink, where the dishcloth in use hangs out. How is reaching down to get one such a strain? I mean I can touch the butcher's block and the sink and the same time, so it is not as if he has to go across the house. Jessica's comment reminded me of another kitchen-related thing: The hubby will put dirty cups and dishes in the sink, but he cannot put them in the dishwasher, which you can also see from the photo just how close to two are. Don't get it. Never will.
Hubby and I also have a recurring argument throughout the winter. He complains about the amount of shoveling (there was plenty to do this winter). However, every time I offer to help, because I actually don't mind shoveling, he says it is his job and to stop bringing it up. I would say this is a guy thing, but the man cooks, so I don't get it. Plus, as I remind him, when we lived in a townhouse, because of his work schedule, I did most of the shoveling, and he was okay with it. Also worth noting is the man has a handheld snow/leaf blower, so... Hopefully we won't have this argument again until December, but it is hard for me to let it go, and it would be whether or not he complained about the chore.
I have other stories, which I may add later. But maybe someone can explain the male species (or more specifically my hubby) in the meantime.