Cleaning has always been my nemesis. Growing up, it was a chore tied to allowance, and frankly, the enthusiasm hasn’t returned since. In normal life, my husband and I both work full-time, and we’ve been fortunate enough to outsource house cleaning. But these days, being home more, I’m confronted with the reality: I’m a less-than-stellar housekeeper. Tie-dyed sheets by accident? Check. Kitchens reaching only 70% cleanliness before my brain checks out? Absolutely. And those stubborn shower stains? They’re winning.
Thankfully, my husband is a natural when it comes to tidying. When he finishes the dishes or cleans the floors, I’m genuinely thrilled. My mood visibly lifts; it’s like a weight off my shoulders. It’s truly a pleasure to witness. He jokingly accuses me of manipulating him with praise as I rave about how great the house looks, but it’s sincere. And I am trying to be appreciative. Because, truth be told, and perhaps a bigger issue, I sometimes struggle to be as outwardly appreciative to my husband as he deserves. Could it be that his acts of service are actually speaking directly to one of my core needs, my love language?
When we first got married, people were curious about how we’d navigate raising children across different cultures. (He’s a Jewish New Yorker; I’m Kashmiri Hindu.) We took it one day at a time, just like everyone else. And surprisingly, cultural differences haven’t been a major hurdle, except in one amusing way: my family are champion bickerers, while his… are not. To an outsider, a discussion about dinner plans between Kashmiris might sound like a prelude to a dramatic breakup. But for us, this spirited debate is just how we engage and connect.
In Kashmiri culture, being called “sharp” or “clever” is high praise. These traits are displayed in our conversational style – teasing, skeptical, lively, and yes, argumentative. Bickering, this back-and-forth volley of conversational points, is practically our national pastime. Writer Scaachi Koul once shared a video of her Kashmiri parents debating where to put a takeout samosa in the car. Watching them playfully spar, and then share the samosa, brought tears of homesickness to my eyes. Our parents might not openly express love with grand declarations, but they’ve stayed together, through arguments and make-ups, often over shared meals, for generations.
Now, I am consciously working on being more openly appreciative. I’ve learned with my son that positive reinforcement works wonders; the more I tell him he’s having a great day, the better he behaves. Babies, of course, have lower expectations, for now. But like any human, I have opinions on everything my partner does. Usually, this tendency is tempered by our busy schedules as working parents. But with more time together at home, I need to be mindful not to let my critical side overshadow my appreciation. He is, after all, my best friend. Perhaps understanding love languages can provide a framework for better communication and appreciation in our relationship. Could recognizing acts of service as my love language be the key to unlocking a more harmonious dynamic, where his efforts are not just noticed, but deeply valued and reciprocated with the verbal appreciation he deserves? Exploring the concept of love languages could be a valuable step in strengthening our connection.
