Days Like This

The first text I sent this morning said “Remind me that I have this great life that looks so good in pictures, because today, I’m just not feelin’ it.” I guess there are days like this, but I sure wish they were on DVR and I could fast forward through them.

My day started off rotten because my husband wanted a blow job. He’s asked about 20 times this week. UGH. For some reason when he starts asking like a desperate 7th grade boy, it’s hard for me to wrap my head around it. It just gets on my nerves that he won’t take 5 minutes to rub my shoulders or scratch my back, he just wants me to be ready to go, whenever. If he wants a blow job that damn bad, he should invest in the 5 minutes, that’s all it would take to get my mind in a different place. To me, his lack of effort is to blame for his lack of results, but he had the nerve to tell me to “do my job”.

Oh. Hell. No.

That’s not MY JOB. It used to be my pleasure, but once again, I spoiled him. I used to perform that task for him several times a day. On the way to work, on the way home from work (we commuted together for a period of time in the early years), in the shower, at the movies, whatever, whenever, I was always up for keeping my oral skills in check. But it was totally one-sided. I can count on one hand the number of times he has reciprocated, and frankly, this mid-life mama is tired of doing all the work. If he wants my mouth to make magic, he better learn how to make some with his!

I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Especially since there is a reason my mind isn’t focused on sucking dick. I am worried about paying for repairs to our home. I am stressed about two of our children in desperate need of braces. I’m wondering how to get a new transmission in my trusty old Yukon. Not to mention, I’m in the middle of mother nature’s visit, which doesn’t make me feel all sexy like the tampon commercial might suggest. I’m spending my days cooking and cleaning and running from football practice to dance class, I dropped $400 at Wal-Mart just for groceries. That’s enough to make anyone throw up right there! I’m a mom, and I have more kids than most, so while my husband is able to spend his days working on hot-rods and hanging out with famous people, I am in our little house that is too small for our family, struggling to make the pennies meet the dimes, and all it would take is a sweet whisper, a 5 minute massage and he could wake up the twenty-year old Blow Job Queen who still lives inside of me, but he’s got to help me out here. I just can’t do it all…

And that’s the big thing keeping us apart. He wants me to do it all. I’m a cross between a stay-at-home mom and a working mom, I work part-time. I work only hours when kids are at school. It’s hard to find balance. My husband tends to always say things to me like “where’s your money?” or “I thought you worked” in that condescending tone that lets me know I don’t make a healthy financial contribution, so I take on more days. I try harder to earn more. But if I’m at work I can’t be scrubbing floors and washing clothes and he’ll come in and say “I thought you wanted to be a housewife? I thought if I took care of you, you were going to take care of the kids and the house?” He honestly thinks I could do it all in the hour I have between getting home and his arrival home. I should be able to spit-shine the house, grocery shop, cook dinner, along with helping kids do homework, taking them to practice. He doesn’t even see that it is a conscious effort just to invest my time in listening to their tales of the day. I want to play an active role in who they become, I’m a hands on kind of mom and with my first birdie almost ready to fly the nest, I have learned one thing, life is short, they grow up fast, and soon they’ll be gone, so I’m soaking up every moment I can. I’m trying to do it all…

Either way, I can’t win, because I can’t balance both things. Somehow I am supposed to work, earn a good living, be an over-involved super mom, and still keep our home ready for a “Better Homes and Gardens” photo shoot, but it doesn’t jive. I don’t sleep at night as it is. If I’m not up doing chores, I’m in bed thinking about them, making mental lists of what needs to get done, and I’m exhausted.

In my head right now I’m ranting at him, and it goes something like this: “Don’t spend the morning hollering at me because your wallet is nearly empty, make me sit on our bed and count out the quarters to fill up your truck, and then  lay a guilt trip on me because you over-spent all week and now suddenly that’s my fault for being a stay-at-home mom, and then expect me to jump at the chance to send you off with a blow job, I’m just not feelin’ it!”

And that my friends is why my first text this morning went to the one man who always seems to know what to say, and you know what he said? “You should take a nap, you deserve it!”

I don’t have time to nap today, but for someone to say I deserve to, that’s all I needed.



Why can’t my husband just get a clue?


9 thoughts on “Days Like This

  1. Call me old-fashioned, but I always thought a blowjob was something that was just sort of supposed to happen on its own. Believe it or not, there was a time I actually received them, and it usually was because I had done something unexpected. And vice versa. I once drove home from work on my lunch break, completely unsolicited, to…ummm…reciprocate. Didn’t get to have lunch, but it was still a nice way to spend my lunch hour. No comment on what’s happened since, but that’s just my philosophy. I would rather ask for sex than ask for a blowjob. Maybe I’m weird.

  2. And the first paragraph of your post reminded me of this little gem I saw on Facebook recently. I don’t know who it’s attributed to, but it’s something I try to take to heart. “The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel.” It doesn’t change hubby’s behavior, but it may affect how you perceive your own situation.

    • He’s the one looking at everyone’s highlight reels, and that’s why I can’t measure up. I tried to let the post be the end of it, but he came home, and there he went again, because the 18 loads of clothes I folded were on the couch. As if he couldn’t just shut up and help me put them away. URGH

      • I do that from time to time – forget when to just shut up. Not to the degree of complaining about laundry on the sofa though. I guess some folks don’t have control of their internal filter. I could line a prison wall with the things HS Crush’s husband let through his own filter, right down to criticizing the cookies she made for her daughter to sell at a yard sale as “not good enough to be put on display.” I keep telling myself that they do, indeed, walk the earth.

  3. Your husband’s lack of understanding for your feelings is is a mystery for the ages, and like all great mysteries, it the answer is simple.. Unfortunately, you haven’t found it yet! You need to make him realize how special and irreplaceable you are.
    How do you do that? I have no idea!
    Sorry, I just point out the truth, I suck at providing answers…

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