Explaining to My Mother Why I Do the Laundry

home insemination Kit

I found myself at the grocery store with my mother and my two daughters. It was a rare outing just the three of us, as my mom was visiting for my son’s birthday. Since moving from Utah nearly six years ago, we don’t get to see each other often, and usually, our time is spent with other adults around.

As we navigated the produce aisle, my toddler, Lily, occupied the top seat of the cart, while my 7-year-old, Mia, nestled in the basket below. My mother, in her early 60s with short, dyed blonde hair, was a little rounder than I remembered, and an inch shorter than my 5-foot-6 frame. My wife was at home with my son, who was under the weather.

While searching for sweet potatoes, my mom asked, “So, do you handle the grocery shopping regularly?”

I shrugged. “Well, my wife and I share the responsibilities depending on our schedules.”

Then she remarked, “I noticed you do the laundry, too.”

“Yep, every week,” I replied.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why is that such a big deal?” I wondered aloud. “I just help out!”

She brought up my older brother, who also contributes at home, and then started reminiscing about my father—how he never set foot in a grocery store or touched the laundry basket. My dad, a product of the ’50s, was a mystery to me. He left when I was 9 and succumbed to drug addiction by the age of 19.

For years, discussing him was a no-go for my mom. He’d left her in a lurch—financially and emotionally. It had only been in the last few years that she began to speak of him without bitterness.

“I never thought about that,” I admitted. “Since Dad wasn’t around, I guess I never had the chance to pick up his bad habits.”

We moved on to taco shells, and while she inspected the box for expiration dates—something I’d never considered—she emphasized I should start doing the same.

“Mel handles the budget and all that,” I explained. “I’m hopeless with numbers. Plus, she did most of the groundwork when we bought our house, figuring out the mortgage and everything.” As I spoke, I reflected on my fear of becoming like my father.

When Mel and I first tied the knot, I was terrified that due to my father’s poor example, I’d inevitably follow in his footsteps. But as I discussed my dad’s rigid views on gender roles with my mom, I realized Mel and I had formed a more fluid and equal partnership. Not having a model to follow had made me more adaptable, focusing on what works best for us rather than adhering to traditional expectations.

As we strolled through the store, our conversation shifted to my kids and my wife. My mom continued with her shopping tips, and despite my lack of enthusiasm, it felt nice to see her enjoying the role of teacher. We touched on my father’s struggles, his multiple marriages, and the impact of his absence on my life. But we kept returning to the ways I contribute at home—things my father would never have done.

Finally, as we stood in the checkout line, I asked a question that had lingered in my mind for a while, “Am I a better father than Dad was?” I hesitated, wanting to articulate my long-standing fears about repeating his mistakes. “I just don’t want to end up like him. I want to be there for my kids—I don’t want to walk out on them. His departure changed my life in ways I’m still grappling with.”

Mom didn’t take long to respond. She scoffed and said, “Yes, you’re much better than your father.” Then she paused, battling her own feelings of resentment from the past. “In the early years, he was a good man and tried hard to make us happy. But by the end, he wasn’t much of a father. You, Clint, have turned into a great dad. You should be proud.”

With all our groceries on the conveyor belt, I gave her a half-smile and headed to pay.

After we loaded the car, the topic of my father faded, replaced by conversations about my children and their adventures. As we drove home, her words echoed in my mind. I had always assumed I was a better father than the one I had, and it felt reassuring to have her affirm that belief. It was nice to know my efforts to create a loving, stable environment for my family were recognized. For the first time, I felt like I was doing something truly right.

If you’re interested in more insights about parenting and home insemination, check out Intracervical Insemination for helpful resources. Also, for a comprehensive guide on at-home insemination, visit Make a Mom. Another excellent source for pregnancy and related topics can be found at Cleveland Clinic.

Summary

In a rare outing at the grocery store, a man reflects on his role as a father while discussing gender roles and parenting with his mother. He grapples with fears of repeating his father’s mistakes but finds reassurance in his mother’s affirmations. Their conversation highlights the importance of shared responsibilities and evolving family dynamics.