I bet you think it will be between my husband and I, and you would be wrong. During my daily conversation with my mom, I mentioned how I asked my husband to fill up my SUV that he was borrowing. Amazingly enough he didn’t forget, and I was very glad. (Which in a way is kind of pathetic that I get excited that my husband does something I asked) Any ways, the conversation:
Me: . . . So he actually filled the tank.
Mom: You know, Pauline’s (a friend of my mom’s) husband always fills up her tank.
Me: I know, Mom. (Can we feel a lecture coming on?)
Mom: And your dad fills up the Mustang about 95% of the time.
(And here I thought he did that just to get away and be on his own for a little bit. My dad’s a lone wolf.)
Me: I know, Mom. It’s just I feel that who ever is driving the car, when it hits an eighth of a tank, can go fill it up or at least replace the gas they use. My problem is he has left the car on empty when I’ve had the kids. So it’s nice that he filled up the tank.
Mom: Well, we just think it’s a husband’s chore. (silence) What are you thinking? (Is it that obvious?)
Me: I was thinking that you raised me to believe that there were no men’s chores or women’s chores. They were just chores that needed to be done. If the dishes needed to be done, then someone would do it. If the garbage needs to be taken out, someone will have to do it. You taught me to do “guy” chores.
Mom: (pause) I was a good mother, wasn’t I?
Me: Yes.
Faemom 