Last night I was in a really shitty mood. I know. Language, language. But I don’t know that there is a better adjective to use than ‘shitty.’ So I’m not editing.

So you know how when everything in your life as a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) becomes rote and goes on in a sort of “autopilot” mode and you wake up the same everyday and brush your teeth the same everyday and buy bread the same everyday and take the kids to school the same everyday and yell about watching cartoons before homework the same everyday and you’re late with dinner the same everyday and you consider jumping from the balcony the same everyday only to argue yourself out of it the same everyday because let’s face it a dive off the first floor balcony is only gonna get you into a cast and not into a dirt nap and then life would be the same everyday only in a friggin’ cast which would just complicate shit and not really solve anything or give the same selfish result that ultimately you want anyway and that would be that the people in your life THINK ABOUT YOU more than just to locate some lost random item like a backpack, cigarette lighter, or adapter to charge a mobile phone. And it would be really itchy and hard to walk.

So you just suck it up day after day thinking “it’s going to get better…it has to….I chose the SAHM life and I love my kids and my family and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” And you know that deep down you never would trade your husband or children for one of those hot firemen calendar poster guys on a big red fire engine with his ropes and hoses….oh my! Although there would probably be a big long ‘pros’ and ‘cons’ list, if only mentally. But in the end, the SAHM-gig would still win out. Because after all, you ARE making a difference in the world by repopulating the planet with intelligent, kind and productive people. And you love them and they love you. And that husband, even after all these years, is still really hot. And he’s seen you in the throws of childbirth and helped you during a really messy miscarriage and helped change the poopy diapers and made you dark-chocolate covered baklava for your birthday and he’s seen you in bad flourescent lighting with all your stretchmarks and ‘still planning on losing this’ pregnancy fat and hasn’t run screaming down the street in search of a younger, hotter version of you….AND STILL WANTS YOU.

But from time to time that overwhelming, ‘oh dear God help me not to puke from boredom’ feeling  hits you. And this is how I felt last night. And I told my husband that I was bored. And his answer was, “Go to bed.”
NOT what I was hoping for. But men aren’t intuitive like women. We have to lay it on the line with them. No hints-dropping because they’re not designed to pick up on that sort of stuff. If we want flowers, then we have to say: “Hey, Honey. My birthday is Saturday and I want red roses with daisies mixed in and I want a gold bracelet and if you get me another kitchen gadget that plugs in, you can also hire me a divorce lawyer.”
That’s how you get what you want from men. Telling them stuff like, “I am bored with my life and I need a change,” is NOT going to get you a hired babysitter and a night out on the town. I know this. But I hoped for a fleeting moment. And instead of living up to my weird female expectations, he lived up to the reality that is male. So I went to bed.
Roses and Daisies Pictures, Images and Photos

This morning I decided to wash the curtains in the foyer for a change of pace. So, I climbed up on the four foot wooden painter’s ladder and took the curtains down. Randa was complaining because her brother farted next to her and it stunk. (The computer is in the foyer and she was playing on the computer.) So I told her to turn on the ceiling fan judging that I was at least a foot or more out of reach of the blades. She told me, “Be careful, Mommy.” I thought, “How sweet. My little girl has overcome the autism speech issues enough to worry about my concern.” And then I noticed that the curtain was stuck to the wooden splinters on the ladder so I lifted my arm out to pull the fabric away and stuck my damn hand right in the path of the metal ceiling fan that was on high.

I don’t know about you, but five stitches in my index finger before noon definitely counts as a change in my regular routine. Think I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on and just count my blessings.

2 thoughts on “Be Careful What You Wish For…

  1. Being a working mom can get kind of “Rut”-ty too. Only now, you have less time to dwell on it because most of your mental energy was spent on whatever your profession of choice is.

    But you know that too. I hope your finger gets better and your sheettay day does not extend into the week.



  2. Oh Nikki, this is the most awesome post! I was a SAHM for 11 years when my kids were little and now I work part time (afternoons only) and write in the mornings at home. But I totally get this. And you're right about the hubs thing too, as much as we love them, they are NOT intuitive and you *do* have to spell things out. This is amazing. And so are you 🙂


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