Do You Not See What I See?

If nothing else, my marriage has taught me how fundamentally different men and women are. Okay, on some level I already knew that before getting married, but being married simply confirmed it. In addition to having different hormonal and physical compositions, I truly believe there exists another major anatomical difference between men and women that’s not often recognized: our eyes.

I often wonder how my husband can look at a house in which the laundry pile is a mile high, the floors can’t even see light because of the layer of dirt on top of them, and the bathroom is a 5′ x 8′ petri dish and seriously ask me, “Do we have anything to do today?”

Are.you.kidding.me.right.this.second? You’re wading waist-high in dirty clothes and you’re asking me if we have anything to do today?

Are you not seeing the same thing that I’m seeing?

I see a linen closet that is butterfly’s wing-flap away from crashing down on top of me because it’s so disorganized and overstuffed.

I see a yard that’s so overrun with leaves that I’m pretty sure a civilization has already begun to form underneath them (which was actually confirmed once I finally got around to breaking out the leaf blower).

And even less obvious, I see about ten chapters I have to read if my studying is going to stay on track. I see a sermon, Bible study lesson, and Sunday School lesson that are all calling out to be finished.

All I see all around me is work — all the time.

Just this weekend I was taking advantage of a child-free afternoon (thanks to grandparents who were all too eager to take her on an impromptu road trip with them) and using that free time to finish painting her room and install a much-needed closet system to replace one that was falling apart. What was he doing the whole time? Playing video games.

Now wait a minute — he has every right to use his free time playing video games if he wants to. He works hard all week just like I do. He’s a great husband and father. If he wants to play video games, that’s certainly his prerogative. There’s nothing in the world wrong with it. But at the same time, the woman in me is thinking, “Doesn’t he notice everything around this house that needs to be done?”

Truthfully, I’m jealous of my husband. I wish I could be more like him. I wish I could take 1000mg of F*kitol and go on about my business. I wish I could turn off like that, but I can’t. Every minute I’m awake, I’m reminded of something I need to do. I need to do this for the house. I need to do that for hubby and baby. I need to do these for the church. I have to do that for work. It never ever stops.

What is it about women that makes it so difficult for us to unplug? What is it about men that seemingly makes it so easy for them to tap out? And can I get a happy medium between the two?

Maybe I should walk around my house wearing a blindfold. Yep, that might be the answer.