culled from:.womansday.com
1. Always say please and thank you—and touch him when you do. I know it sounds like old-school advice, but every marriage expert said the same thing: No one likes being bossed around, especially by their spouses, so there’s no point in throwing down orders like a drill sergeant. All it does is evoke memories of their mothers nagging them to clean their rooms. My husband told me point-blank in our early days that if I told him what to do, he’d do the opposite simply out of spite. Real men don’t get henpecked.
With this in mind, therapists concur that we need to approach our husbands not like children, but with the calm, respectful manner we would friends. And ask, don’t tell. One evening I heard myself sputtering to my husband, “The garbage?!”, like a frustrated teenager begging for the car keys. Not surprisingly, that didn’t even bring a response. Realizing I was off to a bad start, I tried again. “Could you please take out the garbage? It’s starting to stink.” I could have left out the last part, I suppose, but I did get a response, although it wasn’t the one I wanted: “I’ll do it when I get back from the gym.”
Later, when the garbage remained unchanged (and still smelly), I upped my game and took the advice of Toni Coleman, LCSW, a relationship coach from McLean, Virginia, who’d told me, “Your husband will respond better if you place a persuasive hand on his arm or back. Men really respond to physical touch.”So I leaned in closely until we were practically cheek to jowl, but not close enough to block his view of the evening news, and I placed my hand gently on his shoulder. Using the sweetest voice I could muster, I said, “Honey, could you please take out the garbage now that you’re back?” Not only did I succeed in getting his attention, I got him to spring into action. He seemed pleased (and a bit shocked) when I thanked him afterward. Now, whenever I want him to take out the trash, I summon my kinder, gentler self.
Why is it so difficult for a husband to swab the deck? It’s simple: Some men just aren’t that into cleaning. “Women see dirt and feel the mess that men don’t see or feel,” explained psychotherapist Marilyn Kagan, LCSW, who, with psychologist Neil Einbund, PhD, leads the Making Marriage Work courses at American Jewish University in Los Angeles. Dr. Einbund agreed: “When I do the dishes, my wife will come in afterward and rinse out the sink because she doesn’t think it’s clean enough. I look at the sink and it doesn’t bother me.”
I was willing to concede our irreconcilable aesthetic differences, but not yet ready to cave on his cleaning up. So when I spotted my husband heating up some soup, I decided to take a different tack. True to form, not only did he leave behind the dirty pot, but some spilled soup on the stovetop, too. I recalled the advice of New York City psychotherapist and advice columnist Jonathan Alpert, LPC, who suggested I show my husband exactly what needed to be done. “Men are task-driven and goal-oriented,” he said. “Tell him what he should shoot for.”
So I called my husband back into the kitchen. Lifting the saucepan, I pointed to the dried-up pools of soup. I could see by his bemused expression that it never occurred to him to look under the pot. “I know you’re tired, but I want to show you what works for me,” I said, as cheerful as an infomercial. “I just spray a little of this cleaning fluid on the spill, wipe and voilà!” He looked at me as if I had just performed a mindfreak. “What’s that you use again?” he inquired, much to my own amazement.
Not only did he continue to use the product I suggested, he now regularly cleans under pots, like a little boy exploring the dark rooty underworld beneath a rock. It may seem like a small victory, and the results aren’t always perfect, but little things like this are a giant step for my peace of mind.
Michelle Maidenberg, PhD, director of the Westchester Group Works, a group therapy center in White Plains, New York, told me that she plays the empathy card with her own husband—like the time she’d repeatedly asked him to put their kids’ sleds in the garage. Unlike her, he wasn’t at all bothered by sleds scattered on the front lawn like some kind of winter yard sale. A day went by, then two, then a week. “I must have asked him 10 times,” she recalls. Finally he said, angrily, “Why don’t you just put the stupid sleds away?”
Dr. Maidenberg realized then that her husband didn’t understand why she was asking (OK, nagging) him to do something she could do herself. Then she explained: “It’s difficult for me to lift the sleds and carry them down the stairs,” she told him. The next morning the sleds were gone.
Buoyed by her success, I let my husband watch while I struggled under the weight of two overstuffed laundry bags. When he didn’t budge, I tried the more direct approach. “Buck,” I said, using his affectionate nickname, “I really don’t think I can lift these bags myself.” Like Dr. Maidenberg’s husband, he gallantly volunteered to help carry the load. And I’m happy to report that he still does.
OK, but why should my husband get a gold star simply for being a good citizen of the household? I don’t get a pair of diamond earrings every time I clean the hamster cage. Still, it seemed like a mutually beneficial bargaining chip, so I was willing to give it a go.
I let my husband pick from several chores I wanted to hand over, then I told him about the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow (sex!) that would be waiting for him if he handled that chore for the next few weeks. Intrigued, he chose homework help.
To my amazement, after dinner that Monday, he didn’t have to be reminded about our deal. “Can we do the homework now?” he asked eagerly. “After iCarly is over,” I said, reminding him of another deal we’d struck with our 7-year-old for one hour of TV chill time. When the two of them finally headed off to hit the books, I luxuriated in an extra hour of me-time. And how did my husband respond later? Let’s just say he enjoyed it so much that he decided to extend our deal!
RSS Feed
Twitter

07:13
Executive Republic
Posted in
0 comments:
Post a Comment