One task in my home do I loathe more than any other.  I would rather clean up dog poo, scrub toilets after the stomach flu, do the laundry that I hate to do, clean the fridge.... You get the picture, right?

I HATE DOING THE DISHES!!!! 

I really do. It is the most irritating task on my mom list.  My hatred for dishes began in my younger days. I would routinely trade my brother my dishes duty for almost any other chore we ever had.  I used to be so grossed out by the piles of dishes and sinks with not so fresh water.  I HATE DISHES. 

When we got married, I was quite frank with my husband-to-be.  I told him there was two things that I do not do.  I don't clean do puke. I don't do dishes.  He lovingly, yet naively promised me that he would take care of puke for the rest of our blessed cohabitation, and he would always make sure I had a dishwasher.  He went as far as to say, that if ever, we were without one, he would wash the dishes for me. 

 I know that if you know us, and you know my husband, you are laughing at your screen at this very moment.  JP doesn't do housework!  He doesn't.  I love him dearly, but he is not domestically gifted.  It caused many a squabble in our young married days, and even a few in the current years.  I finally came to the conclusion that since I was a stay at home mom for many of those years, that I would do all the work myself and try to only grumble occasionally. 

Then, I went back to work.  I now work full time teaching and he has definitely tried to pitch in more.  He even learned how to operate our washing machine this summer!  He gets up with the kids and I, and makes breakfast, and helps everyone get out the door. He often puts supper in for us, as long as I have it planned, and he puts kids to bed at night.  We have found a working balance... for the most part. I am not saying it is without conflict, but we have been doing okay ... I think.

As you know, last weekend my fancy smanshy front loading wash machine kicked the bucket.  For a family of six, with a mom who works all week, this is NOT a good thing to happen on the weekend.  I do almost ALL of laundry on the weekend! I had even dreamed I was going to have to go to work not in appropriate clothing with un-uniformed kids to school.  After a few days, when the washed returned to working order, my husband even did laundry while I was at work!!!!!!!  I was thrilled.   I am still not caught up, but we don't have to go to school nude now!

This weekend, we have a long to do list, and what could go wrong?  WELL....  how about my precious dishwasher dying?!?  I can't handle that!  ANYTHING but that.  TAKE MY FANCY WASHER... TAKE MY FRIDGE, but don't take the dishwasher!        Alas, it is dead. 

I avoided the dishes all day, and the piled high.  I made a last ditch effort to bring my BFF to life, and all hope was lost. I was going to forced to wash those stinking dishes. I HATE DISHES. 

I begrudingly began my dreaded task.  I fumed as my  husband retreated to the basement without care of his naive promise of years past.  What was he thinking?  I washed.   I dug out the wood dishrack that I bought at IKEA because I thought it was cute. I washed and washed.

Our boys walked in, and saw the novel contraption on the counter.  #4 screams, "What  is that thing?"  "Wow, cool!" chimes #1.  I broke out in laughter. 

I tucked the monsters into their beds, and returned to washing, and my husband finally emerged from his basement lair.  I tossed him a dishtowel, half expecting that I would need to duck imenently, and he stepped up and began to dry.  WHO WAS THIS MAN?

I washed, he dried, and he finally learned the locations of many things in our kitchen.  He could now acutally locate the mixing bowels, large rubbermaid containers, and Pampered Chef stoneware without panicking and calling me.  What an amazing thing! 

We giggled and washed some more.  He retreated again to his lair, and this time, I was no longer angry.  I did not hope for him to fall down the stairs, or trip over the laundry piles at the bottom.  He was free to go.

When I was in the car this morning, I heard a devotional minute about the power of positive thinking.  My mind instantly ran cynically around the cliche.  (I know that you are shocked that I would be critical in any way)  However, at this very moment, it seems very poignant.  I could change my circumstances!  I could remember that this is a blessing to my family, and part of my job as a wife and mom.  No one likes all of their job, and I promise you that I will not actually anjoy the dishes, but I can try and remember to not have a bad attitude doing it.  I can think of the dirty little hands that smudged the glasses and chubby cheeks that inhaled the food off of those plates. 

And I will pray that JP remembers that promise and does the dishes.

and that the washer will work.