“Never Worked a Day in Her Life”





Me: “I’m feeling sick.  I think the kids gave me their germs.”

My husband: “Don’t say that!  You’re fine.  Take a pill or something!”

Here’s The Problem:  If you’re a mom, everyone else in the house can get sick, moan and groan and lie around.  You, on the other hand, don’t get a day off.  And, if you do, say for example, let something like the laundry slide, wow does it ever pile up waiting for your return!  So, I popped a pill to ease my symptoms of the stomach rumbling sort and continued on like nothing was wrong.

“Never worked a day in her life,” the reporter quoted in reference to last week’s breaking news in which this statement intended for political gain against the Romney campaign backfired big-time.  I was laid out on the couch.  At this point, my head joined the agony raging in my stomach.  I listened to the rebuttals from several notable women including our First Lady that being a stay-at-home mom is, in fact, work.  I felt validated, inspired.  I got back up, waited for my head to stop spinning and kept going.

White Elephants.  This is the title of the book I will be reviewing this Saturday (bonus blog post!) and thus, was reading the next day in an effort to be productive.  Anything else I could have and should have been doing involved moving around and moving around caused a stomach-flipping, jack-hammer-in-my-head sensation. As I strained to concentrate on what I was reading, it felt like the white elephant had stomped through my front door and flopped down on top of me.

Mom’s Sick - Commence Armageddon!  Luckily, my oldest son caught the bus and was at school all the next day.  My twins, however, took full advantage of my weakened state: toy closets emptied, stickers stuck to unlikely places, whispers of conspiracy while working together to raid the candy stash perched on a shelf and, in a grand finale, both of them tripping over their own path of destruction thus sustaining minor injuries that produced major crying.

White Flag.  I’ve often told my husband that I wouldn’t leave him for another man.  Why would I want to add another person into my life to bother me with their needs?  I did tell him that I would leave him for an island resort where I’d be left alone to rest and relax in calm, quiet, peaceful bliss.

My Own Private Island.  Since I’m not independently wealthy (well, not yet and only in my dreams), I deferred to the kindness of my wonderful parents who rushed to my rescue until my husband came home and whisked all three kids off to McDonald’s and then to soccer practice.  I had three hours all to myself to rest and recover on the more economical, yet practical “Sofa Island”.  Maybe my low grade fever caused me to hallucinate, but it did feel like a resort spa.  While watching House Hunter’s International, I accompanied a couple as they toured Fiji in search of a lovely vacation home.  I would have went with House #1 as it had better views of the ocean, but they chose House #3, the most expensive.  I hope I get invited to their house warming party.

Like Max in Where the Wild Things Are.  Eventually, I got lonely and missed everyone.  Eventually, I sailed my boat back from Sofa Island.  Eventually, everyone came home.  Eventually, and I mean eventually, like after a week, I finally felt well enough to resume being that very busy lady named, Mom.    

Never worked a day in her life?  That’s not an insult.  That’s a fantasy.