Shame I missed this for Valentine’s Day, but there’s always Father’s Day. ;-)

I remember when you first got off the airplane in Phoenix. You were so scared

of being on the airplane that we went outside and huddled under a pay phone until you felt better. I was driving a friends car because I didn’t want to be embarrassed about driving the van to pick you up.

It was the first time I saw you other than in a picture. It seems so long ago now with everything that we have been through. But we are still here and I’ll be writing a note like this 50 years from now.

I can’t live without you. We have been with each other every day since then, every day, and I would not have it any other way.

And everything only gets better.

You are what makes my world come to life and the force that makes me move forward.

It’s amazing how many words we try to come up with because "I Love You" has been used so much. I was a little off today when I went to write this. I looked through love notes and poetry and valentine’s day graphics, but nothing quite fit and nothing can really say much more than simple "I Love You." So I will stick with that.

And I hope it was cool to sneak into this blog.

I never told you about the time my ex-husband came home from work to say, “Hmmmm, something smells gooood, what are we having tonight?”
Watching him looking at the blue granite roasting pot on top of the stove with the most wistful expression on his face was one of the better highlights in my failed marriage of twelve years.

“What time we gonna eat?”

“In about an hour.”

“Damn, that smells so good, can’t I just taste it?”

“Sure! But it’s hot as hell.”

“I love your cooking, honey; I can’t wait!”, as he rustles through his underwear drawer.

“Where’s my shorts? All my shorts are gone!”

“Hey, I’ve cooled this off enough for you to have a taste.”

I know women don’t boil their whites in a pot full of Clorox anymore, but do it just one time and you’ll remember it forever.

A mother doesn’t have to give birth. A mother only has to love with absolute certainty. A mother’s love knows no bounds. A mother is the person you want to take care of you when you are sick. A mother is the one whose kiss can cure any boo boo. When a mother says “Sit down, we are about to have church.”, you wish you could melt into the floor. A mother has the most natural instinct, not only to protect her own, but anyone else’s too. A mother hurts just as bad as her child hurts. A mother goes to great lengths to ensure her children are happy, only so her heart can warm as they smile. A mother toils all day to bake a ham, just for you. A mother has automatic reaction while driving to throw a hand up over the passenger seat if the brakes are applied suddenly. A mother is not necessarily the one who gave birth to you. A mother is not connected by blood, but by soul. The trust a child has in a mother is bold and strong. A mother must work hard to achieve that trust and work even harder to contain it. A mother would suffer the most horrible pain, so that a child has to feel not one, solitary ounce of it. A mother would not allow someone to abuse her child…she would commit terrible hate crimes against anyone who tried. If her child of soul is in need a mother would sell her soul to the grips of hell to obtain whatever is needed. A mother will not accept no for an answer. A mother does whatever it takes. Some mother’s who gave birth should never have done so in the first place. That is why there are so many mothers. So, if, by luck of the draw, you get a regular ol’ woman, you can go pick yourself a new one. Some say it takes a village to raise a child. I say it only takes a few good mothers. It is a mother’s right to get frustrated at times, but it doesn’t matter how mad or aggravated she is, the unwaivering love never goes away. When a mother is laying the smack down, and the lip puckers, the smack goes down the drain (Ok, so maybe I am a weenie). There are a handful of mothers that I turn to when I am confused…and their word, to me, is more powerful than what any doctor could tell me. I heard recently that home is where they catch you. You best believe if someone is doing the catching, she is a mother. Mothers are the best diplomats in the world. They are also teachers of infinite knowledge. You know, a mother always knows best. I agree with Sally Field…If this world were ran by mothers, there wouldn’t be any wars. President George W. , Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Russian President Vladimir Putin, and Kim Jong II would be sitting on the couch, an arm around the one sitting next to him, holding hands for 15 minutes, and once allowed to get up, they must give each other a kiss. I know that the greatest love of all is a mother’s love.

Obviously, instructions are not included when you get married or have children. Someone forgot to write THE book. Although, many have tried, only a few have somewhat succeeded in that venture. So, how do you define the roles each partner/parent plays in the home?

The situation can vary from both husband and wife being house-spouses to both of them working outside of the home. Understandably, if both partners/parents work outside the home, the split is a bit easier to designate. Each has a “job” and a set of chores in the home (sometimes one has a “job” and has the majority of chores at home). But, how do you go about setting the distinction when one is a house-spouse and the other has a “job”?

I have many friends that are stay-at-home spouses. Their significant other works outside the home, thus providing the monetary muscle.  Some of them have wonderful family co-founders…the homemaker does all it takes to keep the house running smoothly during the day.  Then, as soon as the “worker” arrives home, the reinforcements to help out with dinner, dishes, and nightly child duties are aplenty.  Yet, there are far more friends of mine that have a much harder go at it.  The “working” partner assumes there is not nearly as much to be done on the stay-at-home partner’s list.  They complain endlessly about the fact that they “work”, and the other doesn’t.  It causes much hardship in the relationship, and puts an enormous amount of unnecessary strain on the stay-at-homer.  Now, they are left to feel as though everything they do is not enough no matter how hard they try.  Sometimes, they may feel as though the outside worker is using the fact that they have a “job” as an excuse to not assist in normal duties, such as helping out with the children or doing the dinner dishes.  And, still the one who has to leave the comforts of home, each and every day, feels shorted, because the financial support is solely up to them to achieve.

So, what is left to ponder is how do you help the “worker” partner to understand all that is done behind the scenes?  How do you go about helping yourself, if you are the household worker, understand all it takes for the out-of-the home worker to go to work everyday, feel like it or not?  How do you arrive at a fair share for everyone?  Once, you get there, is it possible to maintain that so desirable 50/50 partnership?

A few days ago, I was floating aimlessly around Testosterone Bay…Sweet Jesus, I have found my way back to the Estrogen Ocean! Last week, you see, it was my wonderful husband, myself, and our two sons. By my count that is one female. This I am used to, as I was the only girl in my family growing up…I had 5 male cousins, and one brother. Yep, 6 against 1. The only thing I had going for me was that I was the oldest…Sometimes, however, this was a disadvantage. “You are the oldest, you should have known better.” was something I heard OFTEN. Obviously, because, as I said before, I was the ONLY girl. That means 1 in 6 was using the brain. Recently, my mother-in-law moved from Florida to the mountains…she is residing with us until she finds a home of her own.

I know what you are thinking…this is going to turn into some rant about how miserable this makes me and so on.

WRONG!

I could not wait for this to take place…see, my mother-in-law and I have a very treasured relationship. She, to me, is not only the mother I wish I could have had, but the best Grandma that my kids could ask for. She is very down to earth, funny, and going through menopause.

Now think about this for just a moment, allow it sink in, settle down, and tweak your brain a bit.

There is only one time of the month that the husband/son in this very happy, hormonal family needs to watch his tone, be careful of the looks he shoots around the room, and watch for little piles of dung NOT to step in (which are strategically placed around the home, just waiting).

He is a good man, though, and recognizes all the warning signs. He usually asks if Flow (as in menstrual) stopped by today. And the only thing I can think of to say is…

“Welcome, passengers, this is your captain speaking. We are now departing Testosterone Bay. In a few short minutes, we will be entering The Estrogen Ocean. Please leave you seat belts fastened tightly around your lap…I have a feeling we are going to hit terribly rough seas ahead.”

FishnetMama has spent the afternoon with Eternally Miserable Friend. It is now early evening and a good stiff voddy looks like just what the doctor ordered to banish FishnetMama’s pounding headache.

Eternally Miserable Friend has spent her entire adult life in hot pursuit of Mr Perfect. She is now teetering on the verge of her third divorce. FishnetMama has been through the whole shebang with her. Not just the marriages, but all those relationships that never got to the official stage - all those “Never Agains”, all that wasted time watching EMF trying to fit yet another square peg into a round hole. As it were.

EMF has probably got her eye on Husband Number Four already. FishnetMama has warned her that she’s on her own with this one.

FishnetMama does not believe in Mr Perfect. She believes in The Man In The Cupboard. This is the man who does not live in her house, so she doesn’t have to clean up after him or spend time ironing clothes that she hasn’t worn herself. She doesn’t have to listen to him blethering on about ball sports that she has no interest in. She doesn’t have to cook food she doesn’t like, or watch TV, or try to think of something to say when the intelligent conversation has dried up.

She just has to yank him out of the cupboard to perform the odd useful task - like hot gorilla sex and anything to do with electricity, woodwork or plumbing. Then she dusts him down and puts him back, and everyone is happy.

Unlike Eternally Miserable Friend.

Hhhhhhhhhhmmmmmm. One more voddy and I’m off to open the cupboard.

Today’s the day, and as you can see, it’s the little things in life that sustain us.

Happy Anniversary to my one and only love.

A sister post to Mudder’s Notta Housewife? Below.

Funny Mudder should post Notta housewife? As if someone can question her housewifery just because she has another full time job on top of her full time house wife work.I always had a sneaking suspicion that men helped more when dating a woman, simply to "catch her".Using a shining wedding or engagement ring to "land her", and then…PooF!! The amazing man who cooked and cleaned, lit candles to make the house smell nice, and helped pick out paint colors that matched the dish towels you loved from an antique shop on a weekend getaway suddenly disappears, leaving a wonderful replica who adores the way you cook, clean and fusses when you’re too busy to turn down the sheets or set out fresh hand made soaps that smell like ginger and spice.(And somehow magically notices when you change fabric softner!)

Okay that may be a bit much, but here’s a study I found that was recently released that proves at least some of my thinking correctly, and proves that Poor Mudder is absolutely a housewife, no matter what else she does to also help bring in the bacon.And with that much more on one’s plate, as in the case of a work at home Mom or Dad, it likely feels like she has to wrastle the darn pig, hold it down, kill it, and strip the meat her darn self as well, only to have to package it and make a meal after the bloodletting is over.

Shew! A housewife and then some. Here’s to you Mudder!!

http://www.usatoday.com/news/health/2007-08-28-housework_N.htm

Here’s an excerpt from the article:

"Women who complain their spouses don’t do enough around the house now have some real proof.

Married men worldwide report doing less housework than unmarried cohabiting men, according to an international study of 17,636 men and women in 28 countries. Findings are published in the September issue of the Journal of Family Issues.

In the study by researchers at George Mason University in Fairfax, Va., and North Carolina State University in Raleigh, cohabiting men report doing more housework than married men, and cohabiting women report doing less housework than married women, although cohabiting men still do less than cohabiting women."

Tags: housework, cleaning, men and women, relationships

I don’t gab alot, I just have alot to talk about! This was said by our daughter who gabbed a whole 9 hour day while her Uncle and I were painting her bedroom and ready to stick her to a wall with velcro to get her out of the way.

Blechy Please! This was said by our 2 year old son when we asked him if he wanted some ice cream cake.

My kids crack my up on a daily basis, and it helps make up for the feeling that I mostly am either A.) Talking to a brick wall when I’m talking to them, or B.) Simply banging my own head on a brick wall while I’m dealing with them.

Being a stay at home Mom, doesn’t afford me things that other Moms have, like professionally styled hair, or nails, business suits or nice trendy clothing, and honestly in those ways I’ve always been low maintainence, I’m not a long nailed coiffed hair kinda gal, but it bothers my daughter sometimes, and she feels free to tell me I’m not very pretty, or as pretty as so and so’s Mom.After breast feeding my second child, she likes to remind me my boobs are falling, and enjoys pointing out grey hairs.

I’m hoping my son is more forgiving. Ha!

Tags: beauty, kids, stay at home parenting