I am not domestic. Not by ANY stretch of the imagination would I consider myself anywhere near any variation of the word domestic.
I don’t really like to cook.. I SUCK at baking (ie: my brownies could usually chip a tooth), I loathe cleaning.. gardening makes my skin crawl..
If I were married back in the 50’s, i’d be considered a waste of a woman and end up a lonely old spinster with 57 cats and a complex.
Guess you could call Thomas lucky in that regardless of how much I dislike all of those things, I still do them because I know it’s necessary. Do I do them with a smile on my face? Oh hell no, but shit gets done.
Since we moved into this house, I have been on a crazy domestic frenzy. Everything has to be clean, the dishes have to be done, we have to cook at least 5 nights a week (more to save money then out of want). I realized a few weeks ago that i’ve been preggo since before I moved into this house.. so perhaps the wacky Stepford-ish change i’ve been going through is some early intense form of nesting.
Not ONCE did I nest with Holden. Once I got put on “bed rest” (that I didn’t really follow but used as an excuse), everything went by the wayside. Holden’s room wasn’t even done until probably a few weeks before I squeezed him out of me. There were still balls of cat hair rolling down the hallways like tumbleweeds in the desert (gross, I know). I just don’t think I could find any motivation to get off my fat pregnant ass and do it.
I know i’ve said a million times how different this pregnancy is, and I think every day it just gets proven to me more and more.
Here I am tonight,after HOURS or cleaning today (and making Thomas clean), baking brownies.. for the second time in a week. The madness needs to end! Not only for my sanity’s sake (and possible my back), but my body’s. All these brownies.. all this baking and cooking.. I fear my next OB appointment, that step onto the scale.. i’ll be covering my eyes and praying for a miracle.
The “Are You Ready to Have Kids?” Checklist of Doom goo.gl/fb/DTPJ1A
If anyone asks how I died, you can just go ahead and tell them "she was lured in by free pie in exchange for listening to 2nd graders screech Thanksgiving songs for 30 minutes"
Half-Assed Jingler Syndrome goo.gl/fb/McWfBy
@ItsEvieClaire Booze and tears
I'm not saying this is the perfect #Christmas gift for all the parents in your life, but.... okay, yeah I am. That's exactly what I'm saying. Truths from the bowels of parenthood! amazon.com/Kids-Are-Turds…
@Gofashiondeals All of that and more. Good times. Gooooood times