As many of you know, the adrenaline ran out sometime around Monday, and I’ve been engaged in OPTCOS for a couple of days. While I’ve been at home recuperating from my battle with all things chaotic, I’ve had time to think. I’ve mentally laid bare the worries and troubles of this mobilization, and in the stark light of day, I can clearly see one very important thing: my house is an absolute filthy wreck.
In reflecting upon what a stunning example of motherhood I must be, and being a true optimist, I came to an important conclusion: Preschooler’s future wife is one lucky lady. Because really, what I am doing is important work. I’m paving the way for future generations, here. What better gift could I possibly give to my someday daughter-in-law than the non-existent expectations of a husband who was raised by a crazy mother willing to offer cheese sticks and goldfish on a paper plate as “dinner” when the dishes were piled too high to be overcome?
Future wife will never have to put away laundry. The Preschooler is already accustomed to searching through “the clean mound” for his daily underpants. Future wife will have the luxury of making PB&J for at least three meals in a row in order to appease the hungry Preschooler. And “grilled PB&J” will not even constitute a repeat since that’s “different from a regular PB&J.” Most importantly, future wife will never, EVER have to keep up with the mail or organize important papers. Point of fact, Preschooler would probably be disappointed if there were not mounds of paper for his Future Children to play in.
In the meantime, I am left to wrestle with the logical dilemma that stems from this epiphany: Sweet Pea’s Husband is really screwed.