HAPPY 2017…

 

We had a great New Year’s Eve party. Lots of friends, champagne, music and to finish- we watched fireworks on the beach. Happy New Year! Happy New Year! … we all said to each other. I could feel it in my bones, 2017- a great year.

Because in 2017….

  • I don’t have to work twice as hard as the men and in half the time to be considered on par with them in the office
  • I don’t have to compromise on my career if I take a break to start a family
  • No longer need to dress carefully because the way you dress will say a 100 things about you
  • House husbands are no longer in single digit percentages worldwide
  • Car mechanics no longer try to inflate the bill unless a man questions it
  • If the children misbehave, my parenting skills alone are not questioned, they are his children too
  • The media no longer discuss women’s clothes, shoes and accessories on the red carpet of every award function
  • I can miss a family gathering because of work and not be given a full court martial
  • I am not the sole coordinator of the children’s birthday parties, presents, relatives’ birthdays, friends’ anniversaries, dentist’s appointments, pet medication schedules and soccer game car pools
  • And my wages are equal – no pay gap by gender
  • ……

 

I got so excited by it all, I woke up. Sorry, girls……

-Bewildered-

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Please mind the gap

Please mind the gap                             please mind the gap                                           please mind the gap

There has been great discussion in recent months about the gap between the incomes of men and women who work at the same jobs. In Australia, the difference between these incomes was about 18.8% and ensued more discussion about the reasons for this discrepancy, how can this issue be tackled, where will this extra revenue come from, should women be taxed differently etc. etc.

Equality exists only in an ideal world. A world in which I, as a full time career woman with a husband and children would come home from work just about dinner time and simply dump my laptop on my bed. I would then go and disrupt the children doing homework and stay to chat with them. I would share a glass of wine with my spouse, nibble some vegetables or things from the salad bowl and mooch about in the kitchen. On a good day, I might even lay the table for dinner.

After dinner, I would help with clearing up and then watch TV or be active on social media while my husband signed permission slips, excursion slips, counted out change for the children’s canteen money, confirmed play dates and dental appointments, checked school bags for errant notes, birthday invites and lost fruit.

At weekends, I would clean the car and then exercise my fingers on the TV remote while my husband bought birthday presents for the parties the children were invited to, housewarming presents for our friends and cards for these occasions too. Then he would complete the weekly shopping and come home to make a quick, light lunch before ironing the washing gently flapping on the line.

I would help out too, oh absolutely! I would cook dinner; barbeque some steaks, potatoes in foil and grill asparagus, while my husband made salad, laid the table and continuously refreshed my drink as I cooked these huge, flat pieces of meat. And Sunday night I would cook dinner too, from a packet of pasta left on the counter, right by that jar of pasta sauce, all bought and kept ready by my husband. Then I would help tidy up, watch TV for a bit and get up, yawn, say goodnight and go straight to bed.

But instead I am the husband from the ideal world.

I do everything that I think he will do one day. Then I tidy up, watch a bit of TV, and get up, yawn, say goodnight and walk through the kitchen making sure all the food is put away, the kitchen counters are clean, the dishwasher is switched on and the rangehood fan is switched off. I check that the doors are locked, the curtains are drawn, the children tucked in, the dog is in, the lights switched off and the alarm switched on. Only then do I pick up my handbag and keys and head to my bed so that I can wake up and do it all, all over again.

So next time anyone wants to discuss equality, please mind the gap.
-Bewildered-