Some days I feel like a robot. Everything seems to be the same routine day in and day out. Instead of feeling like Judy Jetson I feel like the mechanical maid, Rosie. Although that little rug rat is pretty cute with his futuristic hat and crazy dog, life just isn't that way. I wonder what she got paid with? New batteries?
My week always starts the same and ends the same except with a few bumps in between. I rise and shine every day, shower, make coffee, get up the kid for school, finish getting ready, feed the dog, tell my son to get ready 25 times, then out the door with me telling him 26 times to turn off the TV. Drop him off, hit the interstate for work, off at 4 pm, blah blah blah, bed time, repeat. It's Groundhog day literally. Remember that movie?
Then comes the weekend. I can't wait for Friday then I come home to the reality that every thing I basically neglected during the week has to be done on the weekend, like laundry. I usually start laundry on Friday and fold it all on Sunday but I am trying to process why 90 percent of the items are of the male gender and 10 percent is female?
Seriously, Duh has 24 pairs of underwear and how is it in 7 days he can wear 18 pairs of them? My son has 15 pairs of socks, yet by Friday I can't find two that match. I don't want to hear the sock monster theory. I have checked for monsters, they don't come to my house for fear of being put to work. I got asked on Saturday if I had cinnamon buns for breakfast. What do I look like, a New York Deli? Let me crap two cinnabuns for you. You want cream with that coffee? Mom, I want toast and jelly. No butter, cut the crust. Really? Yes, Lord Vanderbilt, let me see if I got your order correct. Did you say no butter? And would you like that on a silver platter or shoved up your nose. Oh, and yes, I will only fill your glass half full of Sunny D. Why the hell would I think that you get all of your vitamins in a full glass or orange juice. How stupid of me.
Honey, have you seen my black shirt? Which one? You know the black one. Hmm, out of the 55 black ones you have can you be more specific hossgrinder? I don't think I can figure out exactly what your talking about. Oh, mom, do you know that Andrea's birthday party was today? No, who's Andrea? Her party is at the jumpy place? And your point is? Well, she sent an invitation. Oh, and where is the invitation? In my book bag. Yes, child that I birthed. I have the inapt ability to read your mind. I knew the invitation was in there. So dumb of me. Guess what? Because I forgot, you get to enjoy the party in your dreams. Tell Andrea when you see her Mommy says happy birthday, hope it was everything she wanted and more.
So, not only am I a robot, I am the hired help, mind reader, cook, chauffeur, dog walker, and whatever else you want to throw in there. Do you ever feel like your little Miss Do it All? I just figured something out. I am a prostitute and a free one at that maybe I should have married Fred Flintstone.