No Woman Ever Shot a Man While He Was Doing the Dishes

      First, I must explain that I am not a conventional wife.  I don’t feel obligated to clean the kitchen simply because I am the wife in this situation.  My favorite fridge magnet reads, “No woman ever shot a man while he was doing the dishes.” I do, or did it in this case because I know what it’s like to mow the yard in 100-degree heat and today I opted for the kitchen.  So while cleaning up my air-conditioned kitchen this morning, I realized dishes are a huge part of life. With every important event, there will be dishes.  A child is born or christened; there will be food and dishes to clean.  A wedding; there will be many dishes to buy, as well as dishes to clean.  A death; mourners bring food and then someone will have to do the dishes.  A job is lost, you still need to eat and do dishes. In 1789, when referring to this newborn country, Benjamin Franklin should have said, “In this world, nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes. Oh, and someone is going to have to do the dishes.” 

     When experiencing a traumatic event someone can always keep busy by clearing and cleaning the dishes.  One can blindly stare off into space and still feel useful washing dishes.  I once dated a man who NEVER cleaned his dishes.  He would simply wipe them, if they needed it, with a dry rag and put them away.  Consequently, doing the dishes, or not doing them, can define or end relationships.

     The three words, “…do the dishes…,” have caused me angst since I was a child.  I remember at dinner, my sister and I avoiding eye contact with our mother, and each other, so as not to invoke the question of who is going to do the dishes.  We hated helping with the dishes.  My mother could never leave the dishes to dry in the drainer and shrieked if we put one away with evidence of any moisture, or if we placed it in the wrong cabinet out of the assigned order.  If we didn’t do it according to her specifications she felt a failure as a mother. (If a relative is reading this, you agree to NEVER tell her I mentioned her on my blog;))

     Until we had children, my husband and I had a nice system.  Whoever didn’t cook the meal, did the dishes.  Once we had our sons, it became more complicated.  After-dinner routines became the decisive measure for doing the dishes.  When they were infants, whoever was holding the baby, didn’t have dish duty.  As our sons grew, it depended on helping with homework, giving baths or reading bedtime stories.  Many times, the dishes, were the favorable chore.  Now, when my sons are home, the question of who will do the dishes can stir up hour-long negotiations. 

     Admittedly, a television commercial for dish soap inspired this rant. I also dedicate this blog to my husband who, as a boyfriend, husband and father, has always done the dishes, and my sons who I taught to do the dishes.  How does any of this relate to being a teacher or a Fifty-something?  I am sick of doing the dishes!