A few weeks back, Tim and I had a disastrous day. It started out normal enough, Tim went to work and I got the kids off to school. With the house empty, I then settled into my work-from-home routine. I login and listen to the morning training Zoom call on my phone while walking the dog around the neighborhood. After that, I dial my insurance leads making appointments for the late afternoon and evening. Fridays are early-release, so I leave at noon to fetch the kids home before switching to appointment mode.
That fateful Friday, Tim was going to be getting home early and Eliana asked him to drive her across town to a friend’s house. The downside to the kids being in a charter school is that the other families are sprinkled around the city. Robbed of her play companion, my youngest then spent the next few hours hanging out with me while I was on calls. As the hour grew later, I started wondering where Tim was. I texted him between my appointments. By this time, Ivy was climbing the walls and we were both starving. Finally sometime after six, he wandered back into the house empty handed. Then I frustratedly made food for everyone, too tired and hungry to protest.
After we ate, I dug in. Why hadn’t he come back? And when he did, why hadn’t he brought dinner? It had not occurred to him to think about any of what goes on at home when he is out, and somehow assumed dinner just happens every night on its own. Moving forward, he pledged to make Friday nights his night to make dinner. He would plan and shop it himself too.
Week one. The first Friday, Tim made his dinner a backyard barbecue. It was hot dogs and hamburgers with no sides or salad because those things don’t happen on their own either. My eldest started to complain that her hotdog bun was blackened beyond her taste, but stopped when I told her that her that Daddy made it. Interesting.
Week two, pizza night, the kids were happy and I was pleased this new feeding regime was starting to take hold.
Week three, Tim texted that he was coming home early on a non-Friday night and wanted to know if I would like it if he got dinner on the way home. Yes, a thousand times, yes. He brought home cold, fried chicken from the deli and pistachio jello salad. Technically it’s a green salad, but even I have my limits. The kids are starting to get used to him in charge enough to complain directly to him.
This week, Tim got home early on Tuesday and made dinner with me. He made the rice while I made a Dutch oven main course. I am super excited about this development. We have the potential to be a two-income family with a non-raggedy Mom. I will keep you posted.
