I abhor doing dishes. My hatred of that chore borders on pathological. And, while I dislike laundry, I will say the disdain I have for dishes outweighs the emotions I have about laundry.
In our early marriage, my hatred of dishes might have caused a little bit of friction. But, we made an arrangement that, whomever cooked didn’t have to clean the dishes. This year, however, given C’s work schedule, we are lucky if he makes it home from work before M’s bedtime, let alone a family dinner time. So, I have done the majority of the dishes.
Because of my dislike of the chore, I usually do do dishes in stages. I empty the dishwasher on a completely entirely different day than when I organize, wash, fill, and start the dishwasher.
Lately, however, I have been trying to get better about doing the dishes. Quite frankly, the kitchen we currently have doesn’t afford me an opportunity to let dishes get stacked up in the sink. And, if I’m being completely honest, I adore entering a clean kitchen in the morning, with nothing on the countertops reminding me of the job I failed to complete the night before.
Imagine my surprise then, when I recently had the energy and desire to not only empty the dishwasher, but to also reload it with hand-washed, ready to be run through the dishwasher cycle, dishes! E had willingly been placed on her play mat, and M was busy eating his dinner and playing with some new toys. So, I seized the opportunity to start on unloading the dishes.
I got 3 dishes unloaded before E decided she was tired of being alone 25 feet from M and myself. So, I moved her to her bouncy chair, right in my pathway through the kitchen – ensuring I would have to step around her and acknowledge her every time I moved from the dishwasher to the counters.
Everything began to go smoothly at that point. I finished emptying the dishwasher, separated the dishes into the piles I use to stage my chore, and filled up the sink. I placed the silverware in the clean dishwater, feeling in the groove of things.
2 pieces of silverware into washing, E decided she was ready to be held and fed to sleep. It dawned on me that C might just walk in, after a long day at work, to just 2 pieces of silverware in the dishwasher holder, the usual stacks of dishes on the counter (organized for my preference, but completely lacking organization to anyone else), dishwater cold in the sink, and the dishwasher hanging wide open… again. He wouldn’t even know, or realize, how much gusto and excitement I had about getting the job completed!
Then, I realized this scenario plays out every single time I try to do dishes. I get started on them, to have something (or, dare I say someone?) interrupt the chore. No wonder I have my piles organized on the countertop, and cold dishwater in the sink so frequently! I can’t even blame the baby – this happened in the house long before kids. If it wasn’t a “human puppy,” one of our “fur kids” would be hacking up a fur-ball, or barking and attacking the door to be let out to chase squirrels, or birds, or their own shadow!
The point is, this happens all the time, when I try to tackle any chore!
Which begs the question – do I hate dishes because they are dishes? Or, do I hate dishes because they represent a merry-go-round of well-intentioned ideas that never get carried to fruition?
Any other mamas have the same time experience with their chores?