dishpan hands...

I can picture it now.

I'm on my deathbed, saying my goodbyes, and all I can think about is how much of my life was spent doing the dishes.

For some reason, dishes are the one household chore I have the hardest time keeping up with. Which I don't understand, because it's also my favorite household chore. I find it really therapeutic to start with a kitchen full of grossness, and end with a running dishwasher and a shining, sparkly sink. I've done a lot of my best thinking while standing over the soap suds with my blue rubber gloves on.

I guess it's finding the time to devote to them that I struggle with. Because I have to wait until my son is either napping or in his high chair and immobile--both of which are few and far between. And who wants to spend their only free time during the day cleaning? I know I don't. The second my son is sleeping, I'm sitting my butt down on the couch for some quality time with a huge bowl of mac n' cheese and The Tyra Show.

Anyway, I've tried doing the dishes while little Marty is playing in the other room. I've even tried the "stick your kid in front of the TV to distract him and buy yourself some time" trick.

But the second I open the dishwasher, he's crawling into the kitchen to check things out. Then he's climbing onto the dishwasher door or pulling the bottom rack completely out. I've had myself a few minor heart attacks over it.

So why don't I just do the dishes as they're dirtied? Clean them off and put them right in the dishwasher to save myself the trouble of trying to find a couple hours-worth of non-baby time? Well, in our house, it's my job to load the dishwasher, and Marty's job to unload it. I'm not a big fan of putting the dishes away, but I can wash and rinse with the best of them. So if there's a batch of clean dishes ready to be reloaded into our cabinets, I'll leave them there for Marty to take care of. Until he does, dishes pile up in the sink because, oh bummer, there's no room in the dishwasher. And I'm usually too stubborn to do his job and mine.

Because when I do, when I unload and reload and unload and reload, I find myself resenting the concept of dishes in general. Take yesterday for example. I managed to find myself some dish time, and ended up spending hours and hours getting things tidied up. And while I enjoyed the process, the fact that it took up most of my day was not so fun. "What did you do today, Becky?" And I'd reply, "The dishes." It doesn't bode well for my claim that being a stay-at-home mom is just as exciting as any other job.

I guess I'm trying to say that if you come over and find a mountain of nasty in my kitchen sink, kindly ignore it. Look the other way. Or hey, strap on those blue rubber gloves and have a go. You'll be the one I think of on my deathbed, thankful that a few minutes of my life of dish washing was spent watching someone else tackle my mess.