I was finishing up chapter five of a book by John Gray when John Odhner walked up and offered to make supper. This dynamic has been taking over for some time now and it still made my guiltometer kick in. I must be a slouch if John has to pick up the slack of a loser wife who ignored the clock and kept reading, or sewing, or watching chickens.
Yet there was a smile on his face.
"That would be lovely," I said. In a few minutes he brought out individual bowls of bean/cheese/salsa/guac/corn/chips combos to everyone lounging in the living room. He remembers all the preferences. We oohed in chorus. I launched the group response.
"One, two, three... THANK YOU DAD!!!" everyone chimed in for the chorus.
As chance would have it the page I was reading was
about how men thrive on making their wives happy. Being needed feels good. And appreciation keeps them coming back for more. As many times as I have asked John if he takes umbrage about my slipping culinary efforts, he assures me that he enjoys stepping up.
A friend once told me that one of the erosions in society today is that women send out the message that they do not need men. They can make it financially, socially and professionally on their own. Heck, they
can even have a baby without a man.
I have pondered her words ever since. While the helpless female has lost its sparkle as a character in recent movies, including Disney, I wonder if we have lost something good as well.
I cannot fit the pieces of why John seems to take more pleasure in serving me than I take in serving him. Certainly I want him to love me, but if on a given day he does not like me, so be it. He on the other hand
starts to go into cardiac arrest if I am miffed at him.
It's not as if I am an ogre. If he likes the spaghetti, fine. But it's also okay if he doesn't. I did what I was supposed to do. Yet bringing me a tailor made dinner seems to ring his chimes.
I wonder if it has to do with our design as mothers. If I base decisions about what I do for my children solely on what makes them happy, we are sunk. I changed diapers anyway, limited
candy anyway, marched them up to bed anyway.
Maybe I am a jerk. But then again I am not done reading the book.
We are talking sweeping generalizations here, and if they ruffle your feathers by all means click delete. But if you are as curious as I am about the seeming inequity click reply and tell me your thoughts.
