Andy and I do not have a “traditional” marriage. I win the bread and more often than not he turns that bread into cooked slabs of meat. To say that he does the cooking is a misnomer. He does the meat making though……whoa….that is really dirty……and now I have visions of him topless with smudges of grease on his cheeks….torn jeans….I am going to store those in the bank for sexy time.
Moving forward. I cook sometimes, but I make things like spaghetti, tacos, grilled cheese and tomato soup……Andy has his own way of eating. It is called ramen and steak. The variation comes in the type of meat. Sometimes lamb, sometimes elk, most often beef, you get the idea. So even when I cook, he doesn’t eat my cooking. Therefore it feels like I can’t really claim that I make us dinner every night because really I just make me dinner and then give Jack pieces of it. Thank God I have a kid now, so I can at least pretend like someone enjoys my cooking. He likes to eat dirt and the plastic ends off the door stoppers, so he is an easy critic.
I was a vegetarian for like 5 years or something, who can really remember the details (read: I am getting old) so whilst (ooo my favorite word!) I do partake in meaty pleasures these days, I am also perfectly content going several days sans animal protein. But when I do get the inkling I turn to the doodalood and he delivers let me tell ya. Basically this narrative is just to illustrate that we have some blurred roles on our hands. He cooks/I cook – that’s trivial. I usually mow the lawn and he does the majority of the childcare….basically it is a mixed bag. It works. He still feels manly and what not. Things are peachy.
Every once in a while a conversation will playfully bring up traditional gender roles. And it cracks my shit up. Today for example, we were texting about our upcoming vacation to visit his Marine buddy. His buddy is having some trouble teaching his wife how to shoot, so asked if I would teach her while we’re down there. Additionally Andy asked if I would sew some sort of harness so that he can strap Jack onto his body armor (kidding! don’t call CPS) and run around with him. I said sure to both, but it got me to thinking we need to get some practice in before.
I just got a new gun for Christmas, her name is Alice, she’s the shit, but the opportunity to live fire her hasn’t come up……if you are just joining us, yes I am the same chick who cloth diapers, got henna-painted and did a home birth. I could write pages on the conundrum that is me. I just wanted to check because you might have thought you wandered off to some other blog. Anyway, I suggested that he and I go shoot on Friday afternoon and he texted back “sure, we need to make some more ammo”.
Being the smart-ass that I am I said “that is man’s work. You make the ammo, I will do the sewing”.