Happy First Birthday, Thursday Thirteen!!! Woo-hoooooooooo… let’s have some virtual cake now.

For your reading pleasure this week, here are:

THIRTEEN THINGS I DO TO FUCK WITH MY CANTANKEROUS NEIGHBOR

13. Travel on the weekends with my extremely handsome and virile husband. (She gets a little jealous.)

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Especially not when home is your former place of employment. I realize one is not supposed to blog about one’s workplace Dooce (like Deuce), but this is my former workplace.

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Do you read Amalah’s blog? You should, if you don’t.

It is much more lively than mine. Also, she frequently posts pictures of Noah, her extremely cute baby, and you’ll never get that here. Wacky Mommy is much too verbose for pix. When her little guy was born she got approximately 8,052 posts congratulating her and her honey of a husband, Jason. Anyhoo — her maternity leave is up and she’s heading back to work, and of course this opens up the whole “If you don’t stay home with your kids you are evil and suck” discussion. Rilly, does any discussion get stupider than that one? Here’s my input:

re: Kasey, an Amalah reader who is all nyah, nyah, why have kids if you don’t want to stay home with them? She said, and I quote, “You will have what, a whole two hours after dinner to play mommy, right?”

My response: I “play mommy” at home with my two kids and we are lucky if we get two hours of playtime a day. Because I am a busy girl cooking food they refuse to eat (“That is some yucky kind of food, Mommy!” — Wacky Boy. Another WB quote: “You are the kind of bad mommy who never feeds her kids.” This, when I was making him homemade mac and cheese. Little ingrate!), cleaning up puke (dog/cat/kid), washing peed-on laundry, doing yardwork, trying to, maybe, do an hour of g.d. yoga so I can stay limber enough to keep up with my babies, volunteering at school and in the community (cuz I’ve got oodles of free time, right? so of course I’ll do the PTA newsletter, go on field trips, do neighborhood clean-ups, help build playgrounds, spend time in the class, etc.) and…

(this part was a surprise for me) staying at home is like any other g.d. job. Except you go more in debt with just one income. Woo-hoo! I do love the “lovebucks.” (Wacky Boy just came in to give kisses.) But staying home full-time isn’t like when you take a snow day and lie around in your jammies. It’s a job. My kids were mad at me all day long today and it wasn’t cuz I was “abandoning” them. It’s cuz I didn’t let them eat cookies all day in their jammies. I forced them to get dressed and go to the library and Santaland and they howled like I was torturing them. They got over it. Kids can deal, they do it well.

Be supportive, Kasey, would you? We’re all just trying to do our best.

Kisses, Amalah, and all you other mothers, from the whole Wacky Family. Happy Year of the Dog! Aroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…

I’m a housewife, which means I pretty much sit around all day on my
voluptuous ass, eating bonbons and watching soaps (“General Hospital”
and “Desperate Housewives” on tape) while the kids turn the living room
into a golf course using their toy clubs, plastic cups and, for golf
balls, uncooked eggs.

I’m a stay-at-home mom, which means I spend every minute of every day
zooming around to Mommy and Me yoga, music, and swimming, and no time
for naps! We’re on busy-busy schedule. Maybe a car nap in the mini-van
if we’re lucky. We have healthy, nutritious snacks like Pirate Booty
and organic soy milk and then it’s zoom-zoom at the park. Then off to
ballet, where the other mothers and I critically eye each other’s spawn
and tell ourselves, “My daughter is so much more coordinated than hers.”

No, I’m an anxious mom, cuz we’re always sick, we always cancel
playdates, we have Hoof-and-Mouth, chickenpox, rotovirus. We throw up a
lot. We break out in random rashes. We break other people’s toys when
we do make it for a playdate. We’re not potty-trained in a timely
fashion, we talk back to grown-ups, we throw fits and we never ever
have dinner on the table when dad gets home.

Really, I’m a woman. A voter. A laundress. I’m worthy. I’m not worthy.
I’m a Domestic Goddess. I’ve been called “vitriolic,” “tramp,” “snatch”
and “bitch.” I will claim the last label but not the first three. I am The Bitch. I’m a writer and editor and lover. I’m a gardener and a hiker and an ice
skater. I love to sleep. I love to read. I like TV. I’m a wife and a
mom and a housewife and a worker and a lot like you, maybe.