The Day I Taught My Husband a Lesson He’d Never Forget
When my husband, Eric, casually dropped the words “scrubbing toilets is women’s work,” while I was burning up with fever and barely able to stand, something inside me snapped. What happened next? Well, let’s just say it involved his beloved Xbox, my cousin’s cleaning skills, and a wake-up call he never saw coming. The look on his face? Priceless.
The Warning Signs I Ignored
Looking back, I should’ve seen the red flags earlier. But love has a funny way of making excuses for the people we care about. And for two years of marriage, that’s exactly what I did.
Don’t get me wrong—Eric wasn’t a bad husband. In many ways, he was amazing. He remembered my birthday, surprised me with flowers, and could make me laugh until my stomach hurt.
“You’re so lucky,” my friends would gush. “Eric’s such a catch.”
And he was—in his own way. He worked hard as a software engineer, handled “outside” chores like grocery shopping and car maintenance, and never complained. But inside the house? That was my domain.
I worked full-time too, running a marketing firm downtown. Yet somehow, I was the one scrubbing floors at midnight, folding laundry on weekends, and making sure dinner was ready while Eric sank into his gaming chair for hours of Call of Duty.
“Babe, you work so hard,” I’d tell him, pushing down my frustration. “You deserve to relax.”
He’d flash me that charming grin. “Thanks for understanding, Alice. You’re the best wife a guy could ask for.”
So I kept cleaning. I kept cooking. I kept telling myself that love meant sacrifice.
The Turning Point
Everything changed the day I saw those two pink lines.
“Eric!” I called, my hands shaking as I stared at the pregnancy test. “Come here!”
He paused his game and jogged over. “What’s wrong?”
I held up the test, grinning. “We’re having a baby.”
His face lit up like fireworks. “Are you serious?” He scooped me into his arms. “We’re really doing this?”
For the next nine months, Eric was perfect. He came to every doctor’s appointment, assembled the crib without a single curse word, and even researched the safest car seats. He’d come home with tiny outfits, marveling, “Look how small these shoes are! Our baby’s feet will fit in these!”
When morning sickness hit me hard, he brought me crackers and ginger tea in bed. He painted the nursery, installed blackout curtains, and even practiced swaddling with a stuffed bear.
I thought, This is it. He’s changed. We’re a team.
The Harsh Reality
Then Emma was born.
The moment they placed her in my arms, I was overwhelmed with love. Eric stood beside me, tears in his eyes, whispering, “She’s perfect. We made this beautiful little person.”
For the first two weeks, he was incredible—changing diapers, rocking Emma to sleep, even helping with laundry. “I want to be the best dad possible,” he said.
But then he went back to work.
Slowly, the chores crept back onto my shoulders. “You’re home all day anyway,” he’d say when I mentioned the overflowing laundry. “I’m exhausted from work.”
Soon, I was doing everything—cooking, cleaning, shopping, and caring for a newborn on three hours of sleep. Meanwhile, Eric would play with Emma for 20 minutes before disappearing into his gaming cave. “I need to decompress,” he’d say.
The Final Straw
Then I got sick.
Fever. Chills. A pounding headache. I could barely stand, let alone take care of a baby.
“Eric,” I croaked from the couch. “I need help. Can you clean the bathroom and watch Emma so I can rest?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Gross. That’s women’s work. I’m not scrubbing toilets.”
I froze. “What did you just say?”
“Come on, Alice. You’re better at it anyway.”
The Revenge Plan
That’s when I called my cousin Stacey—a professional housekeeper who owed me a favor.
“Stacey,” I said, voice steely. “I need you to clean my house on Monday. And I’m paying for it with Eric’s Xbox.”
She laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
Monday morning, Stacey arrived with her supplies. Three hours later, the house was spotless. Meanwhile, I listed Eric’s precious Xbox online—sold within an hour for $800.
The Moment of Truth
Eric walked in at 6 PM, expecting dinner. Instead, he found me on the couch, dressed and ready to leave.
“Wow!” he said, looking around. “You finally cleaned!”
“Nope,” I smiled. “I hired someone. And since you refused to help, I sold your Xbox to pay for it.”
His jaw dropped. “You WHAT?!”
“Yep. $800. Covered Stacey’s fee perfectly.” I stood, holding Emma. *”We’re staying at my mom’s for two days. Enjoy your clean house. Oh, and Stacey didn’t do the laundry—that’s *your* job now.”*
The look on his face? Absolutely priceless.
The Aftermath
When I came back, the house was still clean, the laundry was folded, and Eric was waiting—humbled and apologetic.
“I was an idiot,” he admitted. “I’ll do better.”
And he did.
Sometimes, you’ve gotta sell a gaming console to teach your husband a lesson. And trust me—it was worth every penny.
