I may not be the first to say it, but at least I'll own up to it: I can be controlling sometimes. OK, a lot of times.

There are times when I'm OK with it and then there are times when being in control takes its toll on me and I completely flip out about feeling like I'm the only one who does anything around the house.

So the last time I flipped out I basically threw my hands up, said I was going to bed (at 6:30 p.m.) and told The Mr. "You handle it." I was totally serious. Climbed into bed, put my glasses on the nightstand and closed my eyes. Like the good husband he is, he came upstairs and coaxed me downstairs for dinner.

While we were talking he said, "Do you want me to come up with a plan for all this?"

"Fine," I said. "Take over."

It felt weird and kind of good to give away some of my control, to give away the system that I had set up for the division of chores around the house. It was also a little unsettling. I completely stepped back and let The Mr. figure out -- and have control over -- how to divvy up chores. I did not step in, I did not argue, I did not offer my opinion. Well, once I did and he shot me down and I stepped back again.

I've been thinking recently about going back to part of the system I had set up because part of it was working. At least in my mind it was. This morning I made an executive decision to go back to the part of my system that I thought was working. (This was not on a whim; I had good reason for it.)

When I told The Mr. about it this evening he put up a fight. And I fought back. Good thing he was still at work or I'd be a lot madder than I am right now.

I had a lightbulb moment and realized that one of the things he suggested today -- which I originally said wasn't fair to the kids -- was actually not a bad idea. The Mr. will be so happy to hear me say, "You're right."

But in all seriousness, aside from learning to let go, I'm also slowly learning to realize that that means admitting outloud that I'm not always right.