I cut the grass today. I try to do it once a year, in the early spring, and do a barely acceptable job of it so that nobody will get the idea that it is a good idea for me to continue cutting the grass. I also refuse to do the edging, because there's nothing quite as barely acceptable as leaving the job half done.
I am an independent kind of girl, and as such am not inclined to sit around waiting for a man to do anything that needs to be done. Which leads to me doing such things as moving pianos and very large play structures by myself. However, I firmly believe that cutting the grass is a Man Job. It occurred to me today though, that while Chris is doing his Man Job walking around in the sunshine listening to music on his iPhone and invariably doing it during the painful make lunch/cajole to eat lunch/break up fights about lunch/clean up from lunch process, I am with the kids, doing the lunch thing, switching the laundry, sweeping the floor, wiping the butts and noses, listening to whining, etc., etc., etc.
I think it might be time to trade.