Category Archives: Husbands

Happy Birthday you ugly, old woman


I haven’t posted a while because I was in hiding but sadly, in bed under the covers wasn’t a good enough hiding place because that sneaky, clever birthday found me anyways. Yes, I am speaking to you a whole year older.

In my household, I try my hardest to not make a big deal out of that one time of the year. Why yes, I AM one of those women that turn into huge babies when they grow older. I spent the bulk of

my birthday morning bathing, plucking those pesky grey hairs and lathering on the miracle cream known as moisturizer. Now, if you know me you know that it takes me a whole ten minutes to get ready; throw on some clean clothes, brush the teeth and pull the hair up. So this unfamiliar beauty effort really confused my husband and put my daughter in a particularly wonderful mood. But once I felt I had accomplished erasing the last twelve months from my declining beauty, I just had to seek out the approval of my dear daughter and loving husband. My husband, being the wise man he is, commented on how slim I looked. My daughter, on the other hand, didn’t catch on as easily. Here I thought that my darling, sweet daughter would be able to console me, mainly because lately she’s been shaking her head no to answer everything under the sun.

question: Do you think mommy looks old and ugly?

disappointing answer: Yes, mommy ugly.

Yes, happy birthday to me. But I think the saddest part of all of this is that I only turned twenty-six.

TIP # 6. Unless you can handle the truth, don’t ask your two-year old their opinion. It might result in tears and an empty ice cream tub.

My husband was right, I did look slimming.

My husband was right, I did look slimming.

My birthday presents included:

  • a heart wrenching insult from my toddler
  • a raw hamburger
  • a litter of kittens being birthed on my couch
  • a new niece and
  • a really comfy sheet set

But I wouldn’t change anything because I got to spend it with the family, insults and all.


If the Ricardos can do it, so can we!


Times seemed simpler in black and white. Didn’t they? In the 50’s children obeyed their elders, the streets where safe to play on and childhood obesity was non-existing due to all the “duck and cover” drills. Can you believe the divorce rates in the 50’s were less than half of what they are today? That makes me ask the question, “What the hell did they put in the water back then?”. Some say the low divorce rate was due to the early morals, others say it’s because of the thriving economy. Me on the other hand, I say it was due to the sleeping arrangements. I mean think about it.

Take the Ricardos for example. I can only imagine their bedtime routine would go something like this; assemble night wear, brush teeth, do some reading, indulge in a little mattress cha-cha, then return to their own, separate beds to sleep through the night and probably pretty well after beating the Cuban Conga. Was this the key to their thriving relationship? Even after all the “Lucy, you got some ‘splaining’ to do”, Ricky kept Lucy around.

Recently there has been a lot of research done on the benefits of couples with separate sleeping setups. The research brings up the argument that sleeping separate leaves each individual more rested, happy and healthy. Then there is the question on the effects on the relationship itself. Does the lack of canoodling kill the love?

TIP #4. Nothing kills a romance more than suffocating your loved one in their sleep.

Let’s look at my sleeping scenario, or the lack of sleep scenario. I love cuddling with my man and waking up to his morning breath, I really do, but the time in between cuddling and waking is a nightmare. It’s very rare that my husband and I go to bed at different times. Usually, one gives the cue, “I’m going to go lay down.” ( discreet, huh?) and then the other says “Okay, I’m coming.” and follows like a sad puppy into the bedroom. My husband then unknowingly pulls me out of my pre-slumber to complain about how he can’t sleep or get comfortable for about ten minutes, then the complaining is drowned out by his hypocritical snoring. I am then left wide awake and annoyed. I lay there staring at his face, wondering how bad I would really feel if I did happen to smother him in his sleep. I try ignoring the snoring but it is just so tenacious and monotone, that I actually end up physically feeling the agitation grow inside me. I end up having to nudge him to get him to stop. He then replaces the snoring with what he calls cuddling, I call it suffocation. Oh wait, did I say replaces, I guess that was wrong because soon after the cuddling begins, the snoring returns, this time in my ear. I nudge him again and again and again till finally the alarm go off.cant-sleep-353x210

Then there is the issue of space. We both prefer sleeping on our stomachs or backs with our legs going in all directions. Well this does not work. So again, whoever falls asleep last looses because they can not get comfortable. We also have to add in the four-legged bed buddies. Lets start with the cats; one on my chest, one between the two human bodies, and one at the foot of the bed, always where I want to put my feet. Then add the dogs. Hurley, who also snores, either has to share my pillow with me or joins Carter by my feet. Yes, can’t you imagine a cute little Yorkie sleeping by my head or cuddled up with a cat? Yes, that would be cute but Hurley is no Yorkie. Shes a solid 65lb German Shepherd/ Lab who thinks she is the size of a Yorkie.

Now you see why I am a sister for separate sleeping. In my situation I am not the only one who suffers. Me nudging the hubby five or six times a night ruins his quality of sleep as well and his snoring does mine. Like I said I love sleeping with him but I think this issue is hindering our relationship. He gets cranky when he doesn’t get enough sleep and I’m starting to resent him and his ability to sleep. Think of all the benefits of separate sleeping. You get a more restful sleep, no boners in the butt first thing in the morning and you don’t have to deal with the sudden sexual light switch your bed buddy might get in the middle of the night. Plus, if the husbands out of the bed then there is more room for Hurley and I.

So I say, if separate beds saved the Ricardo’s marriage, why not ours. If the Ricardos can do it, so can we!

How I became the Perfectly Malfunctioned Housewife


It all started with an ordinary car ride. Well, actually it started three years before that at a party but we are going to start with the “I do” part rather than the “awkward courtship” part. Those are always so awkward.

Anyways, back to the beginning. It all started with an ordinary car ride and a conversation about school   loans or something along that line. Then the words ” Why don’t we just get married?” ran out of my face hole before my brain had time to scream WTF!? I think I figured that Dave ( by the way my husband’s name is Dave) would make some sarcastic remark and we would move on. Oh was I wrong. The next day we were getting hitched at the courthouse and contemplating how to tell our parents. Because you see, Dave’s mother didn’t fancy lil ol’ me to well and Dave being the baby of the family, me taking him from his mama was a down right death sentence. So, newly married and living a secret life, we went on our happy-go-lucky way thinking we were those annoying teenagers in Twilight or the hotties from all those Nicholas Sparks movies.

First comes love, then comes marriage….now on to the baby. One whole year into our roller coaster ride of a truly defined dysfunctional marriage and still no babies. Which was quite hard to fathom because everyone thought the hasty lock into matrimony was the results of a night full of “bow-chica-bow-wow”. I mean who actually uses the excuse of real love to get married now a days.

By this time your probably wondering what does all of this have to do with being a shitty housewife. I’m getting to that.

Everyone was starting to get impatient with my empty womb, except for me. I had to keep reminding everyone that Dave and I were to finish college and live a little more before ruining our lives. Evidently my lady guts had other plans because BOOM, baby in a baby carriage it would be. All of this I blame on my good college friend, lets name her C, $2 pitcher night and the VW Jetta that had to be equipped with those damn heated seats.Well, I hope everyone here has had the little birds and the bees discussion by now, if so you probably already figured that night contained the “bow-chica-bow-wow”.

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