Call in sick

Here it is, 93o pm on a Tuesday and in the last three hours I have:

  • Administered eye drops to two babies, and Tylenol to one, by myself
  • Cleaned up the entire downstairs area
  • Started my meal plan for next week
  • Got things ready for tomorrow night’s dinner

This doesn’t include the every day things I get done by this time most nights, like cooking and serving dinner, changing diapers, nursing Kinley, and getting Caitlin to bed. So, really? It’s been a really productive evening. But as I’m taking a nursing break from cleaning the kitchen, Chris tells me a “How many does it take?” joke.

Q: How many women with PMS does it take to change a light bulb?
A: One. Only ONE!! And do you know WHY? Because no one else in this house knows HOW to change a light bulb! They don’t even know that the bulb is BURNED OUT! They would sit in the dark for THREE DAYS before they figured it out. And, once they figured it out, they wouldn’t be able to find the light bulbs despite the fact that they’ve been in the SAME CUPBOARD for the past 17 YEARS! But if they did, by some miracle, actually find them 2 DAYS LATER, the chair they dragged to stand on to change the STUPID light bulb would STILL BE IN THE SAME SPOT!! AND UNDERNEATH IT WOULD BE THE WRAPPER THE STUPID @*!#$% LIGHT BULBS CAME IN! WHY? BECAUSE NO-ONE EVER CARRIES OUT THE GARBAGE! IT’S A WONDER WE HAVEN’T ALL SUFFOCATED FROM THE PILES OF GARBAGE THAT ARE 12′ DEEP THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE. THE HOUSE! IT WOULD TAKE AN ARMY TO CLEAN THIS #@*$!#@ HOUSE! I’m sorry … what did you ask me?

And so, as he is telling the joke, I’m laughing because it’s my life. Except, I’m not PMS-ing, Chris is just oblivious to the inner-workings of a household. He does his chores (after much berating and complaining and huffing and puffing, and sometimes just doing it myself), which includes garbage and yard work. I do mine, which includes the vacuuming, dusting, dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, laundry, cleaning counters, sweeping, swifting, cooking, etc. We’ve divvied out chores quite well, don’t you think. But I know I’m not alone in this. All mothers are doing this, all managers of their households are doing this. We need a vacation.

We get a day all to ourselves once a year. A day to be celebrated for our sacrifices and our hard work and loveliness and all the wonderful things we do day-to-day. How do most mothers spend theirs? I know how I spent mine. I slept in, got chocolate chip-blueberry pancakes (not in bed, however), and then went to my parents for pizza and fried chicken. Where I chased around our 14 month old. And I was pregnant by the way. But it was wonderful, and glorious, and magical and I loved it. But man, it would have been nice to be able to relax for a few hours and not chase her around…

Mom’s need a day to seriously relax. I mean, spa treatments, facials, tanning by the pool or beach, cabana boys in little banana hammocks serving cocktails of pure alcohol to us at 9 in the morning and deliciously good-looking personal trainers helping us work off the empty calories in the afternoon. No kids, no cooking dinner, no guilt, no judgment, just wonderfulness.

We need to work on making this happen people! I don’t care if you’re a working mom, a stay-at-home mom, a working-at-home mom; we all work hard and we all deserve a sick day…Shit, a sick WEEKEND, to go to this wonderful beach side resort I’m picturing in my mind. This includes moms who have grown children, because goddamn, you’re still taking care of them too! We need to get our husbands, sons, brothers, non-mommy friends to just take the damn kids for some time and let us escape.

And on this beach resort in my mind, with hot cabana boys and yummy personal trainers? No cell phones, no laptops, no nothing. Just us. Just mommies, living the dream.

Goddamn, I need a sick day. Whose with me!?

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3 Responses

  1. I guess I am one of the lucky ones because Derek is always willing to step in when needed and if I need a break or rest I get one, I don’t even have to ask for one, he demands that I relax. I guess he is my reward for suffering through the horribleness that was my life in the past. He is my resort in the sun. :)

  2. 34 years of doing that job, I think I need that vacation.

  3. The ‘banana hammock’ part kind of grossed me out.

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