My Husband Is A Better SAHM Than I Am

Yesterday I fled the house. Having been under my own personal version of house arrest for six days in a row, I needed to escape. I needed to put some distance between myself and the little prison guards I birthed. My sanity was precariously hanging by a loose thread, so long had those six days been. I kissed everyone goodbye and drove away to lose myself in the land of Hogwarts and wizards with round spectacles.

There was also grocery shopping involved. And a Goodwill stop, where I found a pair of Carlos Santana heels for $4 and woefully one size too small. Oh, and a stop at my in-law's to gather the next bigger sized baby clothes for my "are you serious? She's only 8 weeks old?" growing little girl. And this in-law's stop involved a very old puppy dog who couldn't get up off the floor, so phone calls were made and puppy peed all over himself and the floor and it was truly a sad sight to behold. (Don't worry, puppy dog's most favoritest person in the world....that would be my husband...paid him a visit last night, and puppy slowly rose from the floor and hobbled a few steps for his favorite human. Sad, sad puppy dog.)

So where was I?

After returning home and throwing hubby the car keys so he could visit his most favoritest puppy dog...and after hubby returned home again.....he tells me, "I really don't know why you can't get anything done all day".

*insert sound of crickets chirping*

Now, in all honesty he didn't mean it like that. He knows I struggle with my days. I feel like I'm stuck in a whirlwind of chaos, and all I do is spin in circles all day long. Nothing gets accomplished. Everything stays half-finished (or started, as the case may be). I'm never stopping...always going...moving from one butt to another, one mouth to another, sippy cup here..bottle there....Pure and total chaos. And at the end of the day I have nothing to show for it. The house is destroyed when hubby gets home, and there's not a shred of proof to show I worked my rear off all day. I toil in vain.

Apparently my children are ganging up on me. They like to demand my attention at the same time. But with hubby, they took turns. "Oh, Savannah went a good three hours in between feedings for me", he says. "Oh, Aiden took a nice long nap for me", he says. "I had no problems at all", says he. "I popped Savannah in the carrier and got all the dishes done and she didn't make a peep".

I could have decked him.

So today, challenged and feeling a bit like a massive mommy failure, I implemented some of his suggestions. I wore Savannah. She cried after fifteen minutes and nothing got done. I tried to be proactive with Aiden's nap and not wait until he was over tired. That took three and a half hours. Here it is, 3PM, and I'm in no better shape than I am any other day. 3PM yesterday? Hubby had all the dishes done, the house picked up, floors swept and vacuumed, blah blah blah.

I just might deck him.