The scenario: this morning is like any other except that Shmendrick isn't feeling well. He has vomited twice and doesn't want to eat his breakfast. He had a rabies booster yesterday, and you are concerned that he may be having a reaction. Your husband points out that you should probably call the vet and ask for advice. But you are busy making breakfast for your child and husband, letting the dog in and out of the back door, and trying to catch part of the today show about the crazy woman who had twenty people in the delivery room.
Your husband gets dressed, and then calls the vet himself while you clean up the child and start to fix your own breakfast. The vet tells your husband to bring the cat in for observation. You husband hangs up, turns to you and says, "You're going for a drive."
Your response: "Can't you take him?"
His response: blank stare.
You can see the wheels spinning in his head. Me take him? The whole point of this division of labor thing is so you can take the cat to the vet. I have a JOB.
You try to explain: "It's just that I am still in my pjs, and so is Miles. And my breakfast is half made. And it is almost naptime. And it is difficult to do the stroller and carry the cat carrier into the vet. You are dressed and about to leave for work. I know it is out of your way, but . . ." You don't remind him that last night he called just before Miles's bathtime and asked you to bring him his glasses, contact case, jeans and a t-shirt because he needed to work late, which you happily did. You don't mention that he worked all weekend so you had to take care of Miles, and that maybe he could do this one thing. You also forget about the fact that he woke up yesterday morning with Miles, fed him breakfast and let you sleep in until 9 am, and that he has to leave work early today to make it home for Tuesday night dinner.
He agrees to take the cat to the vet.
You: "Are you going to be mad at me all day?" you ask.
You: "Well, I don't know what to do. I don't want to take the cat but I don't want you to be mad at me."
Husband: "You should have just taken him. But now I am going to."
And he does. You finish your breakfast, nurse your child, put him in the crib for his nap, feel guilty and write a blog entry about it.
So tell me: who should take the cat to the vet? The one who is dressed and about to walk out the door to go to work, but will have to drive out of his way and be late for his JOB, at which he has a big thing happening this Friday in one of his cases? Or the one who is still in her pajamas and will have to abandon her breakfast, dress herself and the child, struggle with the stroller and the cat carrier, then deal with the child who falls asleep in the car, wakes up on transfer to the crib, and then won't nap, not to mention the fact that she has been doing mostly everything around the house the past few days and could use a little help around here?