So, the bunny is cute.  I guess.

Girlfriend named it Elliot, even though we don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy yet, so I WIN and thank god because calling the vet to make an appointment for Sparkle Sparkle Butterfly Sparkle would have made me sound like a total jackass.

I don’t know if Elliot is going to be a permanent member of the family yet, but I have to tell you guys it’s awfully cute to see him scamper around the house, playing with the kid’s toys and hiding under Girlfriend’s blocks.  She seems to have litter box trained herself and doesn’t poop all over my house.  He does, however, shit in Alice’s bed.  I have to figure out a way to convince him that that’s not such a good idea because Alice is still unconvinced that the bunny isn’t food.  I can’t say I blame Alice for being a little annoyed with Elliot.  I almost never enjoy people who shit in my bed.

So that’s my update on the bunny situation for you.  I have to go hose Homeslice off now.  She’s painted herself in mango.

Next time I feel like running away, pour me a drink, would you?

My battles with Mister and Girlfriend are so typical, and I know that, I just forgot to mention that yesterday.  For me though, it’s not that Mister’s an insensitive douchewad (although he can be at times.  As we all can), it’s that he’s a guy.

Here’s what I think happens to us, all of us.

We live in an interesting time where we are trying to re-define some gender roles that our parents began to re-define when we were little kids.

Here we women are, no longer so much relegated to the kitchen and responsible for 100% of all the household duties and childcare.  We are educated.  We have goals that belong only to us and have nothing to do with our husbands and children.  Many of us have to work outside the home because surviving on only one income is impossible.

We owe our mother’s generation a heartfelt “thanks mom” for standing up and saying “FUCK. THIS.” And they went on strike (I remember the day my mother did it.  We were beside ourselves.  We thought she was crazy.) and they said “it shouldn’t have to be like this.”  And they made it so.

As girls, this became a part of our idea of what it would be like when we grew up and had families.  We know we shouldn’t have to do it all.  The problem is, our husbands and partners grew up watching their dads come home from work, crack open a beer and dig into a lovely dinner our mothers prepared (while grumbling and popping pills or drinking wine or sometimes smashing dishes and locking themselves in their rooms and crying).

Our mothers have helped re-define motherhood and womanhood, while at the same time showing us how to pull off our traditional roles, the guys haven’t had that experience.  They’re lost.  They find themselves in a sea of roles that they have to learn for themselves.  They are burdened with having to figure out how to be husbands and fathers in a whole new way to a whole new generation of women who expect equal partnership.

There are growing pains.  There are resentments.  There is jackassery.

I always try to remember to say “thank you” when Mister does the laundry or the dishes or changes a diaper.  I want to encourage such behavior because he is doing his part, but if I don’t leave Mister a list of what needs to be done, he plays video games because he assumes everything is under control even though the sink is full of dishes and the floors are gross and there’s piles of laundry.  He’s just not tuned into that stuff.  He simply doesn’t see it because he’s not programmed to think it’s his job.  We recently had a fight about that.  I went to Target with Homeslice so he could get stuff done without her being in the way, and when I came home, he was playing Zelda in the basement and the chores were untouched.  I asked him why he wasted that time and he was incredulous.  He said I needed to “take responsibility” for it because I didn’t give him a list of stuff to do.  I thought it was pretty obvious what needed doing,  but he  just didn’t see it.

OR! That’s just an excuse to be a shit ass and Bill Cosby was totally right about men being smart because they screw up household chores purposely so they won’t be asked again.

I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt on that and just say they’re clueless and we need to teach them how to sniff out a shitty diaper and how to see a pile of laundry.

I don’t know.

Maybe I’ve just had too much academia crammed up my ass, but I want to believe that men want to be equal partners in all things domestic and that they don’t want to be married to overburdened, exhausted, frigid, shrews.

Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe they’re all shitbags.

I don’t think my husband is purposely being a dick.  We just have to learn how to share the responsibility equally instead of the house being primarily my responsibility and him “helping out.”

I also need a full-time j-o-b so I actually have ground to stand on here…

This is like, way too huge an issue to deal with in a single blog post, but there it is.

I try pretty hard to take care of everybody around here, Queefies.

I wake up in the morning with an overwhelming list of things to do and NONE of them are for myself.  My life, my entire existence, revolves around taking care of my family and making sure everyone has what they need. I literally have zero time to myself.  Even when I’m exercising, I have to pause the DVD about 6 times in 20 minutes (I counted) to tend to somebody, but I do it because it’s all that stands between me and a blaze of glory.  My husband has time to read, and participate in message boards, and play video games, and take pictures of everything, but I’m wearing three- week- old toe nail polish.  I’ve been trying to find time to at least take it off for two weeks, but I just don’t have it.  I look down at my feet and I just want to cry.

But you know, I take care of them all because I love them so much.  I want them to be happy and well cared for.  I married this man, and I made these children.  It’s my job to love them and care for them.

What breaks my heart is that on most days, they hate me. I have this beautiful family that I love so much, but I’m the loneliest person in the world sometimes.

Take this morning, for example. Mister hates me for wanting to strip our bed so we can hang our sheets out to dry before it rains for the next 3 days.  There’s something wrong with me for wanting to do this.

Girlfriend hates me for refusing to let her wear a dress that’s two sizes too small to school. Later, she’ll hate me for brushing her hair and for making her breakfast, and for asking her to brush her teeth and put her shoes on.

On most days, I end up crying out of utter frustration because everything I do is a battle.

I remember my mother going through this same thing every day.  I remember her crying her heart out in her room and I vowed never to be like her and now I am.  I am just like my mother.

I’m the bitch in the house.

Is this what it’s about?  Is this what motherhood is?

Am I doing it wrong?

I didn’t think it would be like this.

I thought that if I tried my hardest every day and took very good care of everyone, we’d all be happy.

But instead, Mommy is a bad person who makes us brush our teeth and sleep on clean sheets.  We should yell at her and tell her to go away and tell her she’s crazy and tell her we hate her and we don’t want her.

I think I need to go away for a while and let them fend for themselves.

And right now, Homeslice is cruising around the play room pointing to things and asking “wassis?”  She came across one of Girlfriend’s dolls sitting in a little shopping cart and I told her “it’s a baby.”  She picked it up and snuggled it and said something that sounded very much like “mother.”

How fucking cute is that?

This is why I do it, I guess. It’s because of moments like that that I stick around and keep trying.

This motherhood thing is quite a ride, you guys.

What if we try to trade Girlfriend the bunny for something else like…a dog.  Dogs are way less work than bunnies and I don’t have to defend a dog against a cat, a dog, an infant, and a five-year-old, and she’d probably take the trade and I can’t deal with the heartbreak when we have to give the bunny away and she’s going to cry to death and holy shit I have a ton of crap to do this morning before work somebody kill me. Why are so many people suddenly following me on Twitter?  I wonder what’s going on.  I’m always the last to know.  I have to hang clothes out on the line somehow and how does one gain three pounds overnight?  Another dog wouldn’t be bad and Alice would have company but it has to be a smallish non-shedding housebroken dog who likes cats, dogs, babies and kids.  What are the chances of finding all of that in one dog? Not too good. A puppy would be better but I can’t handle a puppy right now.  I already clean up shit from the cat and the dog and the baby and wipe Girlfriend’s ass and I’ll bring it up to Mister and see what he thinks.  Work is going to be boring tonight HOLY SHIT WHY IS MY MOUTH BURNING?

Toy with Me today!  Wild Things: Animals are Pretty Kinky.