Lazy

My husband was just talking (his first mistake) about how, in a few years, our kids will be in Junior High, and I'll have to get up "early." I cocked an eyebrow at him, and watched as he prepared the noose, and slipped his head right on through.

"Because, you know, you sleep 'till like seven, and you're still tired all the time."

I wasn't really prepared to have to give the Mommy's-on-duty-24/7 speech this evening, but since he insisted on prompting me, I improvised a little.

And screamed right in his ungrateful little face. Because the truth is, women are the first line of defense against midnight fevers and vomiting; we do do the lion's share of the chores. They can call it nagging, but that doesn't mean what we're saying isn't true.

"And don't kid yourself, sucker," I said as I glared into that treacherous mug of his. "I know what's out there in the wife department, and what you need," I paused for emphasis, "you ain't gonna get from some Martha Stewart, up-with-the-birds Uber-housewife."

He knew it. He kissed me and apologized.

But he's not getting any monkey love for at least a week. 'Cause if Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.