The Battle of the Pinks and the Blues Still Rages.

The world hurls you into the next thing.

I was in that generation of parents pretty new to the two-income, two-jobs thing. My ex and I were hurled into this new way of family life with no role models to portray for us even what the division of chores looked like. We were told by society that now women and men had careers, but we had grown up with the Leave it to Beaver mentality. That made for what I fondly referred to as the Battle of the Pinks and the Blues. If you’re not following; basically, who did what around the house.

My ex was of the opinion that he did the manly chores (lawn, cars, etc.), while I did everything associated with child care, and the daily running of the house, which if you do a flow chart, will show you that he got the better end of the deal because how often do you mow the yard in winter?

So, while my ex and I sorted out the pinks and the blues, my doctor prescribed Prozac for me. He was very specific that I shouldn’t expect results for 6 weeks. The drug  had to build up in my system. I shook my head okay, and took my first 25 mg pill.

He was so wrong.

My body took to Prozac like a fish takes to water. It was like my body had been waiting on that drug. Within 24 hours I was superwoman. There was no chore, no child, no job I could not handle. I told everybody that would listen that they should go get some Prozac. It was a wonder drug.

Then, I had the biggest panic attack of my life about 2 a.m. My ex said I needed to get a grip, and I considered doing that–around his neck.

It seems some people have the exact reaction I did. Amazing results in a short time, huge panic attacks that came in waves for two days following.

The world had hurled me yet again, and just when I thought I was about to conquer it.

Huge disappointment, because I remember feeling like my brain had clicked into place. For the first time since my son was born, I didn’t feel torn between 15 things. I felt I could do 15 things, and do them well. It suddenly didn’t matter that my ex thought I was responsible for every meal he’d ever eat again, I could cook it. (To quote my mom, cook for a man once, and you cook for them the rest of your life. Touche mother, touche.) Heck, I was ready to do both the pink and blue chores. Why not? I was superwoman. I remember telling the ex to put his feet up, “I’ve got this.”

I actually pondered, maybe this drug cures original sin? Like, maybe the fault of mankind, given to our present DNA by our friend, Adam, back in the Garden of Eden, lay in the brain, and this drug can cure it. (I am aware that only Jesus can do that, but I was on a roll.) It was that good.

After two days of panic attacks, and much discussion with the primary care doc, we were back to fighting about the pinks and the blues.

It wasn’t that either one of us was opposed to doing the chores. It was that both of us were exhausted. New baby, new in our careers, working a lot of hours, getting home at 7 to a child whose needs were all ours. It’s a lot. Top that off with figuring out the new roles of parenthood. Let’s just say that skipping from Leave it to Beaver to Modern Family is not a skip, but a huge leap.

During the battle of the pinks and the blues, I really believed our problem stemmed from adjusting to the new roles suddenly created for us.  Looking back, I see that was a part of it, but a small one. Our real problem was teamwork. We lacked it. Here’s why: We never saw the other person’s point of view. We were always too busy trying to prove our own.

How crazy is it that the person we say we love, is the same person we yearn to prove wrong?

One reason I know the problem wasn’t some cultural switch-a-roo is the young married couples I see today. The battle still rages. Women still nag, and men still ignore.  And, this generation grew up in all kinds of households with all sorts of politically correct role modeling going on (stay-at-home-moms, moms-who-work-0utside-the-home, stay-at-home-dads). Their problem? They lack teamwork. And, they’ve forgotten, just like we did, that they married their best friend.

Here’s the cut and chase. Chores get done. Think about last week’s laundry or yesterday’s unloading of the dishwasher. It got done. Who put the baby to bed, or stayed up with her all night? It got done. Who ran errands all day on their day off? It got done. And sometimes you do more, sometimes he/she does more. It all balances out, even if he ends up mowing the lawn while you cook–in the dead of winter.

Listen, the day comes when the kids are gone. and the chores aren’t so overwhelming, and there’s the two of you again. Oh yeah, you! I remember you! So, play nice. After awhile, those pinks and the blues start to mix. Before you know it, they’ve become a nice shade of,,,, yellow.