So that's where my ex-husband learned how to get out of changing diapers and getting up with the babies at night!
Lucy is dead on her feet while taking care of the baby, Ricky, the apartment, etc. She begs Ricky to get up in the middle of the night with the baby. He won't cuz he's being a silly jerk, but finally decides that Lucy needs a break. He tells Lucy the home is a business and she has to run it like one, that she must make great decisions like interview the maid.
After Lucy out of weakness, hires a woman who is overwhelming with the force of her peppery nature, including opposite "demands" from Lucy's, she finally finds the woman intolerable. Ricky makes Lucy fire her. Lucy's so afraid of this woman, she finally comes up with the scheme to mess up the apartment with the able help of Fred and Ethel. Of course, the last scene is Ricky as he enters the totally messed up apartment. He then informs them all he already fired the maid.
This had a gift of the magi kind of feel to it which compensated for the dictatorial, stubborn style of Ricky; but the message was clear that you'd better be Superwoman if you want this family idea to work. There was not much said about a lot in the fifties. It's amazing we didn't end up in a home for the terminally misled.
The upshot is Lucy asked for help, revealing weakness and inexperience, begged even when falling asleep. And still didn't get it! I know how she feels. All the woman wanted was to be able to get some deserved sleep. Ricky was teaching assertiveness, a tactic women didn't do then very well unless she lived in an "assertive" environment, and most didn't. It was easier to look like an idiot and stay helpless and stupid. Of course, it was a stereotype, but only a few years following the very invention of television, we were exposed to huge landscapes we'd never even imagined. The less serious of us wanted those situation comedies to be our lives. In other words, we didn't consciously think of it as stereotypical. Shoot. We didn't even know what the word meant.
The Fifties: love 'em or forget 'em
The episode appeared in 1952. I was seven and my then unknown husband-to-be would have been twelve (everyone watched I Love Lucy), so it's no wonder we were both so imprinted that we unwittingly acted out this Lucy episode down to the messing up the house so the maid would quit. Hardly a Shakespearean theme, I suppose, but it comforts somehow to know that much of what I did was a result of something NO ONE had any inkling of: the psychological effects of television on children and their ultimate behaviors, or something like that.
My ex-husband, I'll call him Ferdinand, the father of my three girls, refused to have his sleep interrupted to do the partner work thing when we had babies (two of whom are twins). Partners are supposed distribute jobs and pick up the slack when the one of you is down, like get up once in a while with the baby or change a diaper. Those were shockingly slacker behaviors coming from a young executive whom everyone thought was a wunderkind--where did he learn that silliness? He said he was the bread winner. Ricky did. So...
The maid Ferdie hired was an illiterate little thing with a crush on Tanya Tucker and her boyfriend's truck, the one with "No Fat Chicks" half-torn off his tacky bumper. (I imagine there's quite a story behind that ripped bumper sticker.) Her name was Amy. Ferdie insisted one of my twin daughters be named Amy. Good thing I always loved the name anyway.
Later, I probably shouldn't have, but I actually became offended with Ferdie's comment not long after the birth of our twins and close to our divorce being final, "You'll never be a helpmate."
Me Tarzan, you chump...Him, Tarzan, me idiot...Him, Tarzan, me poor...I could go on and on and on...
What I learned
It took me a long time to understand that the craziness caused by fatigue, post pregnancy hormones, stressors like staying up with babies for protracted periods without a break is only cured by sleeping for two or three long nights straight through. It's your body's way of telling you you need to hit the sack and another way of telling people to back off unless they're there to help; you're tired. Nothing personal. Really.
About marriage? Unfortunately, anything I learned came too late to be of much value. Get my room ready at the home. Please, no calendars.
