My husband doesn’t change dirty diapers. He hates it. The mere thought of a dirty diaper makes him gag. He will drive almost any bargain to get out of changing a diaper filled with anything stinky. In fact, there are a few things my husband doesn’t do that fall solely on me.

If I sat down (okay, sort of like I am right now), I could compile an entire list of things my husband doesn’t do for our family. I could write about everything I do better than him and everything I know more about. But that wouldn’t be fair. Because, you see, there are also things I do not do.

I don’t break down boxes. I have mastered the art of throwing and piling Amazon boxes on top of each other in the garage, but I don’t break them down.

I don’t take out the garbage. When I am feeling especially productive, I will go as far as to take the bag out of the can and tie it up to set it on the front step. But I won’t carry it those extra few steps to the outside bins. And you better believe I have never wheeled that bin down the end of our driveway. I hardly even think about when garbage day will roll around next.

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I don’t clear food out of the drain. Give me 35 poopy diapers before you make me dig my hand into the sink to clear food from the drain. It is my kryptonite. Why we haven’t installed a garbage disposal yet is beyond me.

I don’t organize our bills or payments. Crunching numbers and comparing prices takes up the smallest amount of brain space for me. It has just always been something he is better at than me.

Luckily, where I fall short, my husband pulls through. He breaks down the boxes and hauls them off to recycling when our garage starts to look like a recycling center itself. He remembers garbage day every week and assures every bag has made its way to the street. He pulls the food from the drain and shakes his head at me with a smile as he once again watches the water drain down. He is the numbers guy. He knows every in and out of our accounts and watches them closely. He reminds me to budget better after a Target trip but otherwise leaves me to stress over other things.

You see, there are many things I do that he doesn’t do, and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t silently cursed him out at 2 a.m. while he is sleeping peacefully, and I am pacing the room with a fussy baby, or when I am cooking dinner while he gets to sit and put together a puzzle with our toddler.

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And I am sure he has felt frustration toward me while I carelessly buy another fancy coffee drink and get to be the cool mom buying cake pops for the kids while he computes just how much my order rang in at. I know he feels hurt when the kids reach for me first because I am their safe place, just as I feel the sting when they choose him to push them on the swings because he is the fun one.

Marriage is hard enough, keeping score would just make it harder. A partnership is not dividing the load evenly, it is doing everything you can for the other and hoping they do the same for you. Because when you both pick up on the other’s shortcomings, all of a sudden the shortcomings aren’t so short at all.

So, yes, the next time my husband hands me a baby while plugging his nose, I will still roll my eyes and tease him, but I will change the diaper without anger. And I will be sure he gets dishes duty that evening.