Last night I got away without the kids. Let me rephrase. Last night I got away without the little kids. Thank goodness my oldest 2 sometimes need to do things that require mom to go along and consent! My daughter was singing in a contest, she had to have a parent sign for her, and that was my excuse to fly the coop.
I was a terrible wife. I left my husband to fend for himself for dinner. He wasn’t too thrilled about that. It’s not something I’ve ever really done to him, so he was pretty confused. It’s been a confusing week. See, I have been a perfect wife, for 17 years. And I’m exhausted. I’m sick of feeling like my only purpose in life is folding socks. So this week, I’ve been on strike! I just haven’t done it all…
I love my family, I wouldn’t trade the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom for anything. (Actually I do work part-time, but that’s not the point.) The point is, my husband just can’t seem to do the one thing that would keep me going, and that is be thankful. I need him to recognize the work I do. I don’t get raises or vacation days or health insurance, but I should get a thank you, pure and simple.
Thanks for doing 10 loads of laundry today, thanks for getting the cobwebs off the ceiling, thanks for making the bed, thanks for scrubbing the toilet. These aren’t glorious jobs. He has never even considered what it takes to shop and plan meals for a big family like ours. I do it all, day after day after day. He has gotten to the point that he no longer even picks up his own dirty clothes. I’ve become a maid. No wonder he’s not thinking of me as his sexy lover, I’m his mother, taking care of him all the time.
The housekeeper thing could be a turn-on, you know the whole bang the maid fantasy, maybe I’m just not wearing the right outfit!! I don’t know… all I know is that I need more from him. I need him to stop with his sarcastic comments that paint me in an inferior light, because I’m about to unleash my sarcasm right back, and it’s not gonna be pretty!
I’m used to my husband being a flirt, I’m used to him having girls want him all the time. That’s the reason I became a flirt, I was sick of letting his behavior make me jealous and insecure, so I decided “if you can’t beat him, join him.” Sill, when I logged into Facebook and found pictures of him all over some hot girl at a club, it was hard to remind myself that it was just flirting or that he meant no harm. Especially when he comes home and bombards me with criticism. If he showed me half the smiles he was showing this girl, I’d never complain. If he could just give me a break, and quit setting the bar so high I can never reach it, I would be content. But I’m just so tired of everyone else getting the best of him, and I get what’s left, the ickiness…
It’s a good thing last night brought me a moment away. I’m not gonna lie, I took full advantage. I had a bottle of Bacardi hidden in my big gulp of Coca-Cola, and I polished that off watching a football game, then I headed over to watch some live music, and my dearest friends loaded me up with beer. By midnight I knew Cinderella was about to turn back to rags, but I was feeling no pain. I actually smiled at the grumpy old man laying in my bed. I almost kissed him, but I decided not to open that can of worms, especially after the week we’ve had. But that a has a few more miles left in the bottle, and I think I found a babysitter for the weekend, so maybe I will find a little restoration before I take a permanent vacation!