EXPERIENCE
Sound familiar? A 2019 study of heterosexual couples
by UCL found that, on average, women do approximately
16 hours of household chores every week, while men do
closer to six. Even worse, when both are working full-time,
women were found to be five times more likely than
men to spend at least 20 hours a week doing household
chores. And that’s probably not even taking into account
the emotional labour of remembering friends’ birthdays
or navigating the horror of WhatsApp parent groups. Not
to mention the Christmas build-up of writing out cards
for the whole family from us and the girls (Steven thinks
it’s a waste of time, but his mum probably doesn’t),
whipping up a historically accurate Nativity costume
and tiptoeing round the diplomatic hell of who’s visiting
when. The thing is, I think my
boyfriend and I have it better than
most. We’re freelancers who work
from home (so no long commutes or
office lates); we have two children
(Betty, six, and Rosa, one) so divide
and conquer; we have a brilliant
cleaner and Steven does most – if not
all – of the cooking. Yet we still find
ourselves butting heads over dirty
dishes and laundry, with no time or
space left for ourselves or our relationship.
Then there’s the resentment that comes from keeping
on top of mental logistics that I don’t think Steven even
knows about: keeping the nappy bag restocked to avoid
public disasters or knowing where a goddamn 2cm Polly
Pocket can be found. This year, I left him to buy his own
younger brother’s birthday present: six months later, he
finally sent the poor child an Amazon voucher. It’s this
unseen emotional labour that all too often lands in the
woman’s court because (and this is my personal opinion)
we think more about the emotional repercussions of what
will happen if we don’t get this stuff done (screaming
nappy-free baby, upset child, sad birthday brother).
So if we can’t make it work, who the hell can? Well,
a Harvard-educated lawyer who specialises in mediation
and organisational strategy, Eve Rodsky, thinks she’s
come up with the solution. In her new book, Fair Play,
she has identified 100 main tasks that should be shared
fairly, from obvious domestic jobs, such as tidying and
recycling, to more obscure-but-necessary ones, such as
dealing with school forms or organising social plans.
The aim is for the tasks to be shared out fairly
depending on a couple’s circumstances. It’s not about
point scoring but about creating space for both people
to have time for their dreams/passions/ideas, so they
remain interesting to each other and less grizzled by
resentment over the laundry. Fewer household chores
and a sense of self? We’re in!
DEALING OUT THE TASKS
According to Rodsky’s strategy, there are four rules
we both need to get on board with: ‘All time is created
equal’ (too right), ‘The right to be interesting’ (yes,
please), ‘Start where you are now’ (you choose the tasks
that apply to your life – 60 of the tasks on her list have
nothing to do with kids, for example), and ‘Establish
your values and standards’ (which means if you’re
doing the rubbish, this needs to be done regularly
and not as the bin lorry arrives at 6am on Tuesday).
The 100 tasks are divided into virtual ‘cards’ in five
suits: Home, Out, Caregiving, Magic (fun things, such as
gifts and playing with kids), and Wild (unexpected life
moments that might throw things off course). And 30
of them are can’t-ignore ‘Daily
Grind’ tasks. There are also two
cards entitled ‘Unicorn Space’, which
is time given to each person so they
can channel their creative energy and
dreams (not the gym or salon – those
have their own cards – instead, this
is a special time for brain space).
Three hours later, Steven and I are
confused and bickering. We’d started
off strongly, crossing off the chores
that didn’t apply to us (a Daily Grind one for pets and
organising health insurance – thanks NHS) and the Wild
deck, which wasn’t relevant at the time. We’d dropped
tasks we had no interest in including (thank-you notes),
and quickly chosen ones we’d be happy to do and have
time for. This still left us with 80 tasks – 40 each.
A closer examination reveals that out of the 29
Daily Grind cards that are in play, I have 19 (including
‘bedtime routine’ – if this were a tarot pack, it would
be the Death card) to Steven’s 10. This is not what
I consider to be fair. We decide to cheat slightly
and share eight of the worst Daily Grinds, such as
‘changing nappies’, ‘discipline and screen time’ and
‘middle-of-the-night comfort’ (note, this is for children,
not each other). Seems fair-ish. We stick the Fair Play
list on the kitchen wall with our initials against each
task, and circle the ones we’re sharing.WEEK ONE
My biggies include tidying up and laundry, while Steven
has dishes, meals and groceries. We both think we’re
winning by choosing the tasks we’re naturally more
adept at, but I keep loftily reminding Steven, ‘This isn’t
about point scoring.’ (It is a bit, though, isn’t it?)
Halfway through the first day, I walk into the kitchen
and find plates, glasses and mugs covering every surface.
The usual thought goes through my head, ‘I’ll have to do
this as no one else will,’ then realise that I don’t. It’s73
December 2019 | REDONLINE.CO.UK‘WE FIND
OURSELVES
BUTTING
HEADS OVER
LAUNDRY’