Hausmann: No matter what women do: Man can!

When it comes to household matters, our author doesn't have too much on the pan. Your husband, however, does. But he is usually not at home at all. And she refuses to learn. Well clean …

When my husband introduced me to his grandmother, I wanted to do everything right. Because hardly anyone in the world meant more to him than Grandma Klara, with whom he rolled dumplings as a child and cooked semolina dumpling soup. It went well, we ate cookies, I talked about my work. But I hadn't expected this question: "But the shirts from Steffen, the iron-on, you are, right?" Instead of telling the old lady a quiet sleep with a little lie, I replied that I didn't feel responsible for it. After that the mood was somehow depressed. Good thing I didn't tell the whole truth.

Household does not have to be a woman's business

Since, contrary to my principles, I once approached his shirts with the steam iron, to which he and she reacted with deep wrinkles, I've had strict instructions to keep my distance. Rushing ahead of my inability, he now does my ironing. Without complaint. Confident and skillful.

Equality is one thing, talent is another. If I clean the windows, it can hardly be seen afterwards whether there is pollen or snowstorm outside. If he takes over, you can only stay in the apartment with sunglasses because of the sheer sheen. It is therefore clear: his part! But it's also not the case that during the time I hang out on the sofa with a glass of cremant and give instructions: "Honey, it's still a bit streaky up there!" I then take care of the things that all mothers I know take for granted, as if they were their divine destiny: doctor's appointments, parents' evenings, buying gifts, accompanying them to children's gymnastics … Mental load is what we call this penetrating stress today, besides to regulate the life of everyone in the household after work, while forgetting your own birthday.

"What he does, he likes to do"

That’s why men should kneel down to do housework – even with a dusty role model like ours: We both work full-time. He at work, I fifty-fifty at work and in childcare. I struggle with that especially when the notorious diarrhea call comes from daycare and it is clear who is dropping the pen. I also thought differently. Because not only does my husband have the professional skills in parquet care and faucet decalcification, a lint shaver and the dream of a steam vacuum cleaner with a point jet nozzle, he also earns significantly more as an industrial engineer than I do. When the man of my life chops onions or blanched asparagus every evening, however, I notice that I have a faintly guilty conscience: "Poor man, he still has to take care of dinner after a long day at work!" But at least I see it. I can really save myself a bad conscience. Because: What he does, he likes to do. With playful ease. While he is descaling the kettle and is on the phone about relocation strategies, I fail because of the thawing of fish fingers. Most of the time it is less about cooking and more about damage limitation: scraping off char, ventilating, bringing children to safety.

Nevertheless, I do not take any further training in these matters. Because maybe my inability is a little act of inner rebellion. For most of my friends it works the other way round. They fear for life and limb if their husband opens a package of Mirácoli, and after 15 years of relationship they have to explain to him where the vacuum cleaner bags are. Then I think: Nope, everything is fine at home! We women have just got terribly used to the fact that everything for which there is no money is women's business, we find it strange when things get fair. Unfortunately, men like mine are rare. And right now I'm thinking: Perhaps the innovative spray mop with water spray wiper and XXL power zone, which he recently talked about so fiery, would be a really nice gesture of my gratitude.