Husband Tells His Wife That She Contributes Nothing. But Her Reply Made Him Eat His Words.

My husband came home today and saw me sitting on the couch, toddler on one knee, and baby nursing on the opposite breast. I... Husband Tells His Wife That She Contributes Nothing. But Her Reply Made Him Eat His Words.

My husband came home today and saw me sitting on the couch, toddler on one knee, and baby nursing on the opposite breast. I was trying to turn the pages of a book with the hand not attached to the infant, while listening for the sound of the stove buzzer, which would indicate that tonight’s pork chops were at the stage between “well-done” and “the dog gets tonight’s entree.”

My husband looked at me innocently, and asked:

“So, did you do anything today?”

It’s a good thing that most of my appendages were otherwise engaged, as I was unable to jump up and throttle him to death. This was probably for the best, as I assume that asking a stupid question is not grounds for murder in this country.

Let me back up a bit, and explain what led me to this point in my life. I was not always bordering on the brink of insanity. On the contrary, a mere four years ago, I had a good job, steady income, and a vehicle that could NOT seat a professional sports team, and me, comfortably. I watched television shows that were not hosted by singing puppets. I went to bed later than nine o’clock at night. I preferred sex to sleeping in. I laughed at those people who drove halfway across the country hauling a tent trailer, three screaming kids, a drooling dog, and called it a holiday. Now I have become one of them!

What happened? The stick turned blue. I have traded in my Victoria’s Secrets lingerie for cotton briefs and a firm support nursing bra. Good-bye, Garth Brooks. Hello, Sharon, Lois, and Bram. My idea of privacy is getting to use the bathroom without a two-year old banging on the door, and the baby spinning the toilet paper roll from my lap.

And I finally understand that the term “Stay-At-Home Mom” does not refer to a parent who no longer works outside the house, but rather to one who never seems to get out the front door.

So here I sit, children in hand, wondering how to answer my beloved husband.


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