I was recently doing the dreaded “seasonal clothes change” chore. You know, the task of going through all the kids’ clothes and getting rid of outgrown clothes? This chore could easily take me three hours, and I do it twice a year. I was thinking as I was digging through my 5 year old’s pants (besides ‘how did these 18mo pants get here?’) that this, like many jobs I do around the house, is a chore that no one else in the family even knows is a chore to be done. The recurring thought of “this house would go to hell in a handbasket if I wasn’t around” went through my head yet again.
Being elbow deep in Carter’s brand clothing for three hours gives one time to think, and so I began to envision what would happen if, heaven forbid, something tragic happened and I was no longer around for my family. Visions of piled laundry, mounds of dishes, and my kids running around wearing 3 sizes too small pants as capris ran through my mind.
If I’m being fair, I’m sure my dear husband would figure it out. I didn’t marry a moron. He would not let our 5 year old wear 18m pants that he could bust out of like the Hulk. My husband would figure out how to do the dishes and the laundry. More realistically, he’d probably hire that crap out and then our house would be much cleaner than it is now and he’d wonder why he hadn’t gotten rid of me much sooner.
I have no doubt that he could raise our two boys to be fine, upstanding young men, just like he is. Or was. He’s 40 now, not exactly young. But still fine and upstanding. I do, however, worry about his ability to raise our daughter. There are so many things that she would need to know to be a fine, upstanding young woman that he doesn’t even know are things.
I started to make a list of what I want my daughter to know if I am not around to tell her:
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