58 marieclaire.com.au
like car maintenance, taking out the
bins, and making sure the TV is working
by lying on the couch and watching it.
But from looking at all the ticks in
my column, it was clear that the bulk of
the duties sat with me.
Right. Time to “delegate with joy”
as Dufu puts it. I scanned the list, and
saw the dreaded “Make lunches”.
“I think you should be in charge of
lunches,” I said. “I do pick-up, and put
out dinner most nights and then clean
up, I hate going back in to the kitchen.”
He grimaced, but agreed. “Packing
school bags?” Phil nodded. “Can you put
on a wash every day?”
“Yep,” said Phil. “Great.
I’ll fold and put away.”
I did this partly for
my own amusement; I
knew Phil didn’t even
know where the laundry
detergent went in the
washing machine.
Our new schedule
would look like this: I would unstack
the dishwasher, and he would clean
up after breakfast. Responsibility for
groceries and meal-planning stayed
with me, but we split the cooking. We
each have to make one weekly meal
ahead of time on the weekend, and
one during the week.
I’m better at numbers, so I took on
bills and budgeting. We delegated clean-
ing to a cleaner every fortnight, the
ironing to the laundromat, and two
lunches a week to the school canteen
(this made Phil smile). We also over-
hauled our schedule and resolved to
down tools by 8.30pm every night, so
we could have time for ourselves.NOW, DROP IT
The first night of our brave new equita-
ble world, I came in to the kitchen at
8.30pm after reading to the kids,
putting away laundry, answering emails
and paying bills. Phil was sitting at the
kitchen table watching Netflix on his
phone, cutting carrot sticks in slow
motion. The bench was covered in snack
items, the bags were not packed, and
I could not hear the reassuring whir
of the washing machine. I couldn’t hide
my exasperation and flew around the
kitchen throwing yoghurts in lunch
bags, resentfully cutting sandwiches,
putting on a wash.The next night it was 9.30pm when
I came down and again found him
surrounded by bread and ham and
unpacked lunch boxes. “What have you
been doing?” I cried, genuinely gob-
smacked. Phil looked around, similarly
panicked about where the time
had gone. “I don’t know!” he said. And
I helped him finish up, again.
And then I remembered something
Dufu had talked about. When she dele-
gated the task of sorting the mail to her
husband, he agreed, but didn’t really
take responsibility for it. It was only
when the mail piled up over a number of
months (as she sat on her
hands) that the mail
management role finally
switched over to him.
I needed to really
drop the ball. Not “give
the ball to my husband,
go ballistic when he
stuffed it up, and show
him how much better
I was at holding it”. The next night,
rebelliously, I stayed out of the kitchen.
And then something interesting
happened: Phil got really fast at making
the lunches. He went from 9.30pm, to
9pm, and then was hitting 8.30pm every
night. We’d clawed back an hour of free
time! What would we do? Become part-
time DJs? Sculpt our recycling into
modern art? Or maybe just finish that
Netflix show, and hold hands for a bit.B R A V E N E W
EQUITABLE WORLD
One month into our post-drop the ball
world and I’m shocked to discover I goto the gym three times a week. On
Thursdays I walk in the door to a roast
dinner that I didn’t cook. The dirty
clothes basket gets emptied every day,
as if by magic.
Our mornings and nights feel
slower and more relaxed. That panicky
fear that I’ll never get out from under
the laundry, and the dishes, and the
children, to become really good at some-
thing again, and make a contribution,
is gone. It’s not all sunshine and roses:
I have pangs of guilt as I wave goodbye
to the kids every morning, despite the
fact they’re all thriving. There aren’t
enough hours in the day to kickstart all
the projects I have in my head, and I
constantly feel like I’m playing career
catch-up after those few years at home.
And I am still working on letting go.
One recent Friday night, I had to
work late, and realised I wasn’t going
to make it for our usual end-of-week
dinner with the kids at the local pizza
restaurant. I anxiously texted Phil,
suggesting he put on a movie for the
kids and order takeaway. As if one par-
ent is capable of handling three little
ones in a restaurant, I thought (unless
that parent is me, of course). Half an
hour later he texted me a photo of all
four of them, happily eating pizza.
The real miracle? I just spent 48
hours away from them all to write this.
Before I left, I looked at the weather and
made a mental note to remind Phil
about packing the warmer coat I’d just
bought for the littlest. But then after
the first 24 hours, engrossed in work,
I forgot to send the reminder. And guess
what? He packed the coat.HOW TO GET THE BALL ROLLING...
DO LESS, ACHIEVE MORESomething’s
gotta give
Take the necessary
time and space to
discover what matters
most to you – and
prioritise that.Recruit
a village
Cultivate an inner
circle of people (family,
friends, outside help)
who are willing to chip
in and lend a hand.Don’t buy into
the stereotype
Men are just as capable
of taking care of their
families as women. Dad
can know best – and he
can do the laundry.1 2 3
Three ways to break your habit of taking on too muchAustralian
working women
do 10 hours
more housework
a week than menCHALLENGE