Crazy Woman

One of the best things about being a woman is that you can live with two totally contradictory ideas about life and feel justified in both. This was reinforced for me this weekend much to Husband’s dismay because no matter which me he agrees with the other me is going to be ticked off.

Each generation of women is unique. We each have our own ideals about life, love, and career. I had the unique pleasure of growing up in a generation full of fairytale princesses and Barbie’s of every career imaginable. Women were just as likely to work in an office as they were at home and somehow expected to still come home and be the keepers of the home. My mother worked to her own money, buy her own cars and still came home and made my father dinner every night because he did not like to eat leftovers. If that wasn’t enough she would then put me in the car and we would drive to his job and take him this dinner because he worked at night. I am sure part of the reason she did this was because most days that was the only way I got to see him, but even in retrospect it seems like a little much. I mean this woman worked all day, cooked and cleaned all evening while taking care of the 4 of us, and then drove and brought her husband food. It is no wonder I think she has super powers.

I still remember being the only girl on my Little League baseball team and how my daddy would brag about his daughter being the pitcher. He taught me to fight and wanted me to excel at everything that the boys did. I sometimes wonder if he really wanted another son, but there were other times when he would tell me to act like a lady. One of the best lines was when he told me as a girl, “No man wants a woman who can’t cook, so get in the kitchen and watch your mother.” I thought it was funny then and it still makes me laugh. I let him know then and there that cooking for a boy was not my life’s ambition. It was and still is the truth.

The problem is that like most women, I try to do all the things that mother did. Whether I mean to or not. She is my template and despite some of my best efforts to deny it, she is my measure for what a wife and mother should be. She may need to learn to relax a little, but she is otherwise my idea of perfection. This means that I think that I should be able to work 2 jobs, cook well every night, keep a clean home, and take care of my kids without a hair out of place. This, as anyone who has been to my house can attest, is not the case. I am barely holding it together. The contradiction is that if my dear sweet supportive liberal husband were to ever say that he expected these things from me “there would be smoke in the city, ya heard!” No woman my age wants a man that can’t take care of himself. If he wants to keep living with his mama then he can stay in her basement.

I must have looked more overwhelmed than I thought because husband started doing his own laundry. This is a problem for several reasons – the least of which being that he neglected to discuss it with me at all. Secondly, why is he only doing his laundry? If he really wanted to be helpful, why would he not do “OUR” laundry? I’ll tell you why. It is because I will fuss that he is not doing it the way that I want it done. However, that is not the point. Now I am going to be upset about him “only thinking of himself” and dub this “help” as a slight. Third, my next thing is to conclude that he is really doing this because he does not think that I am capable enough to take care of him and the kids. Him doing his laundry is a way of saying that his needs were not being met and he had to take matters into his own hands. Why would he do something so hurtful? It is because in his male logic, he is being helpful. The thing is I don’t want his help. If he had just talked to me about this I would have gladly done his laundry more often. Right? WRONG. I would have called my friends to complain about his chauvinistic attitude.

Why? Because I am a woman and you can’t win with us. That is right. I will admit it. We are crazy and we know it, but you better not say it! So I sulked and I told him that it hurt my feelings and that I did not like it, but I never asked him to stop because I know deep down that he really was trying to help. This does not mean that I am not going to go into his closet and take over his little make shift laundry area (it really does look sad). It just means that I am aware that my anger bends toward the irrational. He does, too. He weathered the storm like a champ. I started to tirade about being hurt and he responded with a simple, “I can see that.” I huffed and puffed. He gave me a hug and told me he thought my workouts were paying off (It is a cheap shot, but it is effective.)

It is like I said, all women are crazy, we are constantly in battle with ourselves and polar opposite ideas (from media, family, friends, religion, etc), but the key to a successful relationship with a woman is to know that and find the crazy you can live with. Otherwise, we will smell your fear and eat you alive. J