It’s really a shame that the Eastern European Mail Order Husband trade isn’t more prominent. I don’t need an emotional tie and I don’t need sex. I don’t need children.
I have feminist tendencies in that there isn’t much that a man does that I can’t do. I used to work in an industry that is 95% men (stagehand) and I’d like to say that I held my own. There are just some things that I don’t want to do.
1. Car care. Including the cleaning of vehicle and garage.
2. Outside the house. Mowing. Snow removal. Grilling.
3. Plumbing. Things that are clogged or leaking.
4. Furniture moving. Again, can do it…it’s just awkward alone.
5. And the ever important…”Here watch this kid so I can (pee, do the dishes, go to the mailbox, sew…etc.)
I’m so tired and so over it all. Having a sick kid is double the work of a well kid. There is a white noise in my house to the tune of “mommy, I need you…I need you mommy”. Whine noise. The whine of a child who clearly doesn’t feel good. But she won’t do anything to help me help her. Still won’t voluntarily take motrin. Isn’t really eating. Her eyes look terrible. And I can feel myself getting hit with another round just from the fatigue of back to back sick kids. And no help. After all, who wants to be around germy kids?
And where all the people who offered to help in the days and weeks following Stephen’s funeral? Are they waiting for me to call? Probably. That whole upper midwest thing. A whole region who gets their own business and minds it.
I found my Otto mags today. And some of my patterns although not all of them. Not the ones I was looking for of course. I found all the ones not in use regularily. I can’t find KSFT or the EcoShopper pattern. Ugh. I (mistakenly) ventured out to HF today with my 2 littles in tow. They both love fabric stores and are usually destracted and very well behaved in them. I got restocked on machine needles and got a new twin needle. I also got a nice chunk of hot pink interlock that is screaming to be an Olivia. Gotta get that pattern. Did I mention that I’m quickly becoming a pattern Ho? The Ottos were my undoing. I page through each issue much like I page through the Hanna Andersson catalogs…pretty things that are all but unattainable. All I can do is dream.
If I had all the money in the world, my children would be in head to toe Hannas. If I had all the time in the world, my children would be in Ottos and Studio Tantrums and all sorts of mama made lovlieness. The irony is that in order to have all the time or all the money, I would have to not have children. So, alas, we have lots of handmedowns and Target and UFOs that sometimes sit so long that the child for whom it was intended grows up and needs another garment type because the seasons change quicker than I can finish a project.
Another irony is that Dave Ramsey now has a half hour TV show. But you have to have digital cable in order to view it. If you know Ramsey, the people who need his advice the most are the ones who should have been rid of the digital cable long ago.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Maybe somebody, in their slumber, is thinking about us and wondering, if we are okay and remembered that we might need some help. Maybe this person will call, at random, just when I’ve had enough. Just before I let my child eat that stick of butter. Just before I let her go outside wearing nothing but a tutu, earmuffs and cowgirl boots. Maybe someone will call right when I could enjoy a shower (didn’t get one today…acky). Maybe I will get invited to caucus for my state. Not that I need an invitation but I’d welcome intelligent conversation. And maybe there will be a margarita at the end of the night. And maybe somebody else will bathe and tuck in my children.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.