Day 2. Tired.

My husband made dinner last night. He came home after working all day and seen the stuff I had sitting out on the counter for spaghetti and then seen the hesitation on my fat rear end to get up and make it. So he did. Without me having to ask or nag to. Just went in and cooked spaghetti. Can I tell you how amazing it was to eat dinner that I didn’t have to cook?! So here I sit, uterus and stomach completely full and completely happy. Well my uterus is still working its way to happy but my stomach is there full throttle.

I know that me being a stay at home mom means that I should have this house cleaned and dinner on the table when he walks in….right? I mean, that’s what I’ve been told by everyone who has had a opinon about it. But I can’t help but want to relax once he gets home and I tag him into the parenting corner. Is that selfish? Probably. I’m not sure I was ever built for the stay at home mom life. I hate cleaning. I love a clean house but I hate the process of doing it. I hate doing laundry. I hate doing the floors. I hate dusting crap off. I hate it all. Yet here I am literally employed as a stay at home mom. Does it get any easier? It’s been two years and there are days I want to light myself on fire and go work at Mcdonalds for a break. Then, there are days I am entirely grateful for the naps and pajama pants I get to stay in most days. So that’s the happy medium I guess. Death or naps. Quite the dramatic life I lead.

But when it comes to being a stay at home mom does your husband still have to pitch in 50%? Or, are you a one woman slave wife that is barefoot and pregnant not expecting any type of relief? I wish there was a rule book on how this is supposed to work. There are times I just want to scream, “HELP ME.” I mean there are times I scream it but for my internet composure lets say I don’t. Are we not supposed to expect any help being the stay at home parent? Because honestly, I worked all day too. Granted, my work day may have been wiping a butt and eating cheesecurls on the floor….but it still counts. Like every working person out there, I have bad days too. I have days where I LOATHE my boss who is a total of 2 1/2 feet tall. Now today was not one of those days. I had a doctor’s appointment, got a Starbucks (with my hidden stash of “I need a starbucks today” money) and had a lovely nap with my daughter. I had a nice day and still didn’t feel like making dinner. So tonight I got spoiled with spaghetti *cheesy grin*. Yeah, that’s right. You be jealous of that sexy little bowl I had served to me.

-Singed