When I started this blog I promised stories from my crazy life… Well, lately it’s been anything but crazy. In fact, my life has become… well, it basically feels like walking through peanut butter every day. Can you imagine what it would feel like to walk through a river of peanut butter (if you’re allergic to peanut butter, please don’t imagine this! Instead, please substitute a less deadly sandwich fixin… like marshmallow fluff. If you’re allergic to marshmallow fluff, I feel for you and I have no suggestions. You’re on your own!)
Let me say this as sincerely as possible, because you need to know it before I continue: I love my husband. I really do! He’s a great guy, a source of comfort, support and love. He hardly ever complains when I accidentally leave needles in the couch cushions (I sew at night and sometimes forget where I stick things). He tied my shoes for me when I was pregnant with both our kids, and he buys the deodorant I think smells best on him (I have a weird thing about having the perfect smelling deodorant).
That being said… Lately I have been doing EVERYTHING around the house. Yes, I’m a stay at home mom, but that doesn’t mean that everything should fall on my shoulders. We used to have a deal where he did the kitchen and I did the laundry. Do you know the last time he did dishes (of course you don’t)? I don’t either. It’s been so long that I can’t remember. He works a swing shift and our deal was that he would get up by 9:30 or 10:00 so he could spend time with me and the kids before heading off to work. That NEVER happens. I don’t think the words “do you want me to make lunch today?” have ever escaped his lips. Today I didn’t make lunch, just to see what he would do. He made Top Ramen for himself only and then asked me to finish “getting it together for him”. You see, he just threw some noodles and water in a tupperware and put it in the microwave and wanted me to finish making his lunch for him. I just kept folding laundry and he comes in all “why didn’t you finish my lunch for me? I asked you to help!” (make sure you get the whiny voice in your head just right… you know what it sounds like if you’ve ever been around a 4 year old child). Apparently my husband can work with complicated electrical systems, but can’t mix a little flavored powder into his Top Ramen.
I’m doing a little experiment next week. I’m not doing any of his laundry, not making a single lunch. If he wants to wake up late, he’ll need to set his own alarm clock. I am going to play couch commando and not give him the remote to watch Sports Center. I am going to ask him to get me a soda from the fridge the second he sits down. I am eating the last bit of strawberry ice cream. And I’m not saying sorry for it. Maybe a week without his “wife” will teach him to be a little more appreciative of me.
…then again, maybe I’ll just have that much more to do two weeks from now.