This past weekend was busy. You know how it is, right? You work all week, you’re farming, you’re making sure the children have clean school uniforms and a somewhat-healthy lunch in their schoolbag. You’re running around from activity to activity after your own work day. You’re remembering birthdays, special occasions, dental appointments and teacher visits.

The weekend is your time to reset – but not in a ‘mental health’ way. I mean reset your house. Do the grocery shop, get loads of laundry done and put away, vacuum and mop (what is that on the floor?!). But it’s also the time when people just “drop in” and – if it’s family – they will end up staying for hours. I generally love having family over, but when it comes to my sweet toddler nieces and nephews, I have long since given up hope of maintaining a clean home when they come to call. I can usually handle the chaos and the running around. Usually.

But this past weekend, my laundry machine broke. And I think my spirit broke along with it.

EQUALITY

In terms of equality, as far as women have come in recent decades, I’m not sure we’ve come far enough.

By Sunday, I was exhausted after minding my nieces the night and day before. But, the mammy guilt had set in and I had promised to bring my own three swimming.

After swimming, I remembered I hadn’t gotten a birthday present for a nephew so we went to Tesco, which is an epic journey to make with three young kids in the toy section. The bargaining, pleading and promising (“I’ll clean my room as soon as we get home!”) were in full force. In fairness, I had picked up a pair of trousers for myself, so I did let them get “something small.” I full on refused McDonald’s on the way home, though.

I spied that the 24-hour laundry machine at one of our local service stations was free (the big 18kg one). I raced home to drop off the kids and pick up the laundry. I also still had to do the big grocery shop, make dinner and clean the house. It was well after lunchtime at this stage, so my other half was finished his morning’s farming, but I couldn’t find him. I gave a shout. He came downstairs, plunked down on the couch and turned on the telly.

DIRT AND MESS

“Is this all the glass recycling?” I asked. No response.

“Is this all the glass recycling?!” I asked – a bit louder. No response.

“HELLO?”

The worst possible thing he could have said to me at this moment was that he was really tired and to stop bothering him. And he said that very worst possible thing. And this was the moment I snapped.

See, I get that farmers work hard. But I am pretty sure I work just as hard (maybe even harder). Besides working full time and seeming to be the only person who sees dirt and mess in my home, I also carry all of the emotional labour in the family. The birthdays. The appointments. The internal schedule. Knowing which child likes mayonnaise on their ham sandwich and how the other one likes her porridge in the morning. It’s not a competition of who does more – and truthfully, for the most part, my husband and I have a decent balance of labour. But when you say the wrong thing at the wrong time and I have been chasing my tail all weekend – it becomes personal.

I read the ‘Dear Miriam’ a few weeks ago about the woman who received a hoover for a special birthday, and I felt for her. But I also remember thinking: “I think this would only happen to an older couple.” Would I ever get a hoover for a gift? No. These kinds of familial problems have largely not been passed down to younger generations. But maybe they are. Maybe, instead of the hoover, there are just times when you’re treated like a doormat.

But don’t worry. As soon as my tired, long-suffering husband said the words, he knew he had messed up. He has been all sweetness and light ever since. Even as I type this, at 7am, he is making the children their breakfast.

Last night he asked me what I wanted for my birthday. You can bet there will not be a hoover all wrapped up when my big day comes around in a few weeks.

That said, I wouldn’t turn down a really nice, new laundry machine. Assuming, of course, that there is also a ‘spa day’ gift certificate waiting for me in the drum.

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