Promises and housework

Before my husband and I did our “I Do’s” in a community center, with pizza and homemade hot chocolate as our catering- we had the housework discussion. Now anyone who knows me, knows that I have always hated the idea of becoming a 1950’s housewife. There is absolutely nothing wrong with professional homemakers but in my mind they’re basically superheroes. They are the modern Renaissance men who can cook without giving their family botulism, clean while actually knowing how to separate clothes for washing and make their kids kick ass lunches. The most amazing part of all of the actions I just listed is they accomplish these feats EVERY SINGLE DAY. That is an incredibly overwhelming prospect for someone like me.

In my life, I manage to wash all our clothes in one load on cold, and only once I run out of things to wear. I would describe my cleaning aesthetic as kind of decent. I clean to the point where my friends don’t die from asbestos poisoning when they visit. I would classify my cooking style as somewhere in between microwave dinners and Pinterest Crockpot recipes. My toddler usually has fresh fruits and cheese for dinner, not because I am a health conscious person (I’m totally eating Cheetos while I write this) but because it requires no preparation. Legit homemakers are too bad ass in my mind for me to live up to that expectation.

So before we tied the knot, my husband and I made a few deals on a ratty old couch, which has since found a new home in the dump. Ankit would be our head chef and I was self-appointed Emperor of cleaning. I would child rear. He would make sure our obese dog got fed, while our pound puppy got enough love to keep her from losing her shit. We would always endeavor to communicate and support the other’s dreams. These were our vows.

The vows spoken in front of our loved ones, on the other hand, were an absolute disaster. I butchered the three lines I wanted to say in Hindi, to the point I’m not completely sure my husband nor I knew what I was trying to say. I’m pretty sure my husband accidentally married our friend officiating the wedding as he looked him DIRECTLY IN THE EYES and listed reasons, only missing the PowerPoint presentation, on why he was marrying me. You see, neither Ankit nor I relished the idea of being the center of attention. It is probably why he ended up as a software engineer, and I hide my messy bun behind textbooks. But the vows we made in the shadows alone, promising to take care of each other and compensate for the other’s weakness (e.g. him being an award winning messy human being, and me having a meal prep phobia) is what keeps us strong.

I wouldn’t change our awkward wedding, or the fact that our vows were quietly whispered in our apartment, for anything. Especially if it means I rarely have to cook and I get the added bonus of a Bollywood-level sexy husband.