Occupational Therapy
My husband is many things. But industrious is not one of them. More counter-productive than productive. Hell for the first birthday present I had to buy him I chose the following.
As I struggled through the morning it was accompanied by the ready chirp of his demands. Slackass ways that make me question eliciting his help in even one hour after I got up with boy-o to clean up that scary scary 5:20 AM diaper.
My husband has never been one to volunteer for work. He's never been one to know what the hell he's doing around here without a script and a compass. As I near my return to work in January I wonder how we will survive. Then it hits me ... I'll be at work! I'll be off the hook for a few hours everyday. I wish I could be the sort of person to let this stuff slide without actual absence but I can't.
Just call me Mrs. Impossible I guess.
As I struggled through the morning it was accompanied by the ready chirp of his demands. Slackass ways that make me question eliciting his help in even one hour after I got up with boy-o to clean up that scary scary 5:20 AM diaper.
My husband has never been one to volunteer for work. He's never been one to know what the hell he's doing around here without a script and a compass. As I near my return to work in January I wonder how we will survive. Then it hits me ... I'll be at work! I'll be off the hook for a few hours everyday. I wish I could be the sort of person to let this stuff slide without actual absence but I can't.
Just call me Mrs. Impossible I guess.
Labels: breakfast, Don Imposible, micro-parenting
posted by mo-wo at 10:09 p.m.
3 Comments:
Oh Mo,
Those few hours away are gold from that perspective. The ship, alas, still needs steering upon your return. Me, I'm Little Ms. Unbearable around my Mr. Huh?
Oh yeah, I'm with Mad. A few hours of being your old self is so helpful.
Me, I am growing weary though, of being the only person who doesn't think the floor of the hall is the correct repository for socks. When did this happen? Misterpie used to do laundry! And overall, he is not impossible, but he is atrociously lazy. I try hard not to bother mentioning it, because I have decided I am not his mother, he can live with his own consequences. Pah. How does it happen that we fall into these roles?
(And I got the scholastic email, but haven't had time or brainpower to think about it yet.)
Great post, I think our husband's are twins.
Jillian
I'm new to your blog, please feel welcomed to come visit mine.
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