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Some days I am sure that deciding to become a stay-at-home mother was the biggest mistake I ever made

11.13.08 | motherhood | 24 Comments

Today, minutes before I exploded my new Pyrex brownie pan by turning on the wrong burner on my glass-top stove, Dick took the car to his scout meeting. He refused to take any of the girls with him, and, since he worked from home today, he never really “came” home before leaving right before the joyous Eat Dinner and Go To Bed part of our program.

(And this week’s trash has not yet made it to the trash can, and tomorrow is trash day.)

(And he left out the blender. Again.)

Yesterday I walked to my cub scout pack meeting with all three girls (WHO ARE NO MORE WELCOME AT MY SCOUTS THAN THEY WOULD BE AT DICK’S SCOUTS) because Dick took the car to his voice-over lessons that he’s getting in exchange for blog consultation. The voice lessons which appeared on his schedule to help him podcast better. (AS IF I CARED ABOUT HIS DING DANG PODCAST).

Now, I know. It could be worse. Dick could be dead. Dick could be a selfish, narcissistic, insensitive creep who left us for a Barbie-type fantasy with LONG HAIR. Dick could be unemployed and uninterested in looking for work. One or all of our children could be terminally-ill with last-stage myofarcoinsentialoma. I could work all day at a real job and then come home to deal with the exact same problems.

But. Could anyone, male or female, explain to me why, when I need to leave the Smoking Brownie-Glass Chunks Everywhere mess in my kitchen for emergency Chik-fil-A fresh-squeezed lemonade (and dinner for the kids), I am car-less because Dick has driven FOUR BLOCKS. (WITHOUT KIDS).

Also, I know. I shouldn’t blame this whole (obviously hormonal) fiasco on being a stay-at-home mom — at least, certainly not on the “mom” part, not when Spot, seeing my weeping while vacuuming glass is intent on hugging my leg in comfort. And not when Susan, even after I spanked her mouth for repeating that very naughty word ONLY MOM CAN SAY says, “It’s okay Mom, you don’t have to be mad.”

But I’m sorry, all of you who have tried to claim some other title, like Homemaker or Soul Sculptors for the King of the Universe. I love my kids. They are the most significant part of my life. The only part of being a stay-at-home mom that I don’t like is the part where I SUDDENLY FEEL LIKE A SECOND-CLASS CITIZEN IN MY OWN LIFE.

Jane

Comment of the day from Emily Jones:

Oh man, I so feel ya. In my blog, I have a separate tag for poo parties, because they happen often enough to necessitate one. I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who has days that age me 10 years. I’m also glad to know I’m not the only one who wants to run away from home. It’s almost easier to have a husband that beats on you, because then you can blame him guiltlessly. But when he’s a decent guy who works for a living, it’s harder to tell him he’s being a jerk.

*Not that I want to make light of abuse. If your husband is ANY WORSE THAN MINE in ANY way, please dump him. Right now.

2nd Comment of the day from Maggie:

Some days I feel the same way. Some days, as in days that end in Y. I’m sorry you had a bad day. I’m sorry your husband couldn’t walk his tush and leave you the car. I hope you have a better day today and an awesome weekend.

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« Dick is gonna kill me (but it feels sooooo good)
» Quantum of Silliness