Division of labor.

I've had a really bad parenting day(or week, rather), so I figured I might be wise in avoiding the subject of my children tonight.

Instead, allow me to sing the praises of my husband.

He and I have become rather specialized in our respective fields over the course of our six-year marriage. I joked when we first got married that I would serve as the breadwinner and "put him through school", as they say. Turns out, the money that he earned as an intern for Micron and at his part-time job on campus was at least equal to, if not greater than my annual salary working for the Lieutenant Governor of Utah. Tim is, simply put, a great provider.

My income has been negligible for years now. I do the budget, clip the coupons, shop the sales.

Tim babies the lawn. I designed our landscaping, plant the shrubs and bulbs, weed the garden.

Tim rinses the dinner dishes. I wash all the other dishes.

Tim takes out the trash. I fill it up.

I am primarily responsible for the nurture of the aforementioned individuals who will remain nameless, since I said I wouldn't mention them tonight. Tim nurtures me.

Anyway, you get the point.

Sometimes, I get so absorbed in my own frenzied life as a mother and homemaker that I fail to recognize all the things that Tim does so that I don't have to. For instance, I threw out a diaper today in the pail in our garage designated for such refuse and thought, "Tim empties this thing every stinking week (literally, stinking) and I rarely give it a moment's notice."

I often tease him that I can count on one hand (actually, two fingers, for the record) the number of times he has cleaned a toilet since we married. Well, how many times have I fixed the computer?

Division of labor is an essential method of coping with the demands of a growing family. We embody it to a "t". The only ingredient we lack at times is the ability to recognize what each person contributes to the whole. And the whole is pretty darn great, if I do say so myself.