We’ve come a long way along the feminist road lately and I would like to think that any right-thinking woman – and man – of any vintage now gets that it is not compulsory to burn your best M&S D-cup in order to be one.
However, there are things in my relationship with my husband – and I know friends are similar – that are still mortifyingly gender specific.
This morning, our car wouldn’t start. After 10 seconds of controlled, low-level swear words (‘What does bl**dy, d*mn and s*d the flipping heck mean, Mummy?’), I was straight on to my husband to come to deal with the situation because car sh*t is his. All his.
Of course he hadn’t bothered to book it in for a service after the last time this happened so it was also His Fault. I gave out to him, and then he gave out to me because, apparently, I have more time to do that than him and, let’s just say, a pint of cold sick and a fermented shark steak would have gone down better.
The thing is, I do enough. I could give you a list roughly the length of War And Peace. So the least he can do is take the car in for its sodding MOT and get it vacuumed once in a while.
And then there is the driving of the car. Which, like something from the 1970s, is always done by him whenever we are both in it.
This makes me cringe but not enough to do anything about it because it’s nice to sit down and not do anything for the six minutes or six hours, or however long he is about to do the apparently macho task of changing gears and turning left at junctions.
And then there is the cooking. I recently went to buy some fish and mentioned it was for a barbecue. ‘How is he cooking it?’ asked the fishmonger.
He? He? Why would it be assumed that ‘he’ is cooking it? I kept my seething to myself because the fishmonger is a nice man, if a casually sexist nice man.
And then I went home and my husband gutted the fish with his special manly super-sharp knife and grilled it over hot coals, while I made a delicate, fragrant, lady-like salad…
Three things that are NOT stereotypically gender specific in our house…
- I put the bins out. And the recycling . And take things to the tip.
- He sews on buttons, and finds iron-on name labels a novelty. For about 20 seconds.
- He is better at face painting and creating costumes (not at cleaning paint off the rug once he’s finished, though…)
Is it wine o’clock yet? The trials and tribulations of getting through the day as a working mum
Feel Lara’s pain? Let her know on Twitter: @larajkilner
About Lara: Mum to a shouty seven-year-old and a fast moving three-year old. Along with going to work and getting annoyed with my husband for leaving his pants on the floor, there isn’t much time for anything else.
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