being all responsible and stuff is awesome

Hubby has a new job.  This is fantastic news for a lot of reasons not the least of wich being income.  Because yay gainful employment! 

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for him working for free but after a while it gets all what do we really need in life?  Can we do without food?  And come on, the kids have been wanting to wear shoes everyday like some kind of over privileged uppities. 

So while it's a praise it's also an adjustment.  Hubby was working from home and was able to be with the kids all the time.  I may or may not have been a little jealous.  And he's the fun one.  How can I compete with that?  Because parenting is clearly all about competition.  Obviously.   

For the first few years I always won because I had the food source and was way better at knowing the difference between a hurt cry and a I swear to God I will hold my breath until I pass out if I don't get what I want cry.  Plus I always saw the upside of jammies and he didn't.  One case of a baby pulling off a poopy diaper and finger painting with it was all it took to win that argument.  Check and mate. 

But now instead of one exhausted parent at the end of the day they have two.  It can go either way.  Sometimes it's oh my gosh you are so freaking adorable right now of course you can have Twinkies for dinner but other times it's who left the garage freezer door open?!  All the food is bad!  Don't make me ground you!

Poor sad pathetic kids with bipolar parents.  And they still may or may not eat a well balanced dinner but only because that would require one of the legal guardians to get up off the couch.  So they conjure up big sad eyes and say things like mommy, there is a rumor at school that other kids' moms make dinner at night using a thing called a stove with real knifes and cutting boards.  And then they clank their metal cups along the walls in a sad little cadence while singing "swing low sweet chariot" in unison.

Are parents supposed to play rock/paper/scissors to see who keeps the children alive? 

Because if so, we're the best parents ever!

But just when I begin to question my specific decision to work outside of the home, a vision of me from six years ago shows up and kicks me in the face and starts in with oh no you didn't {snappy fingers in a Z formation} you did not work your butt off in nursing school with three kids to reevaluate your career choice now.  Get up off the couch, make some dinner and remind your family why you are the bomb! {head bob back and forth}

Isn't the me of six years ago sweet?  I love it when she calls me the bomb. 

I also love how hubby comes home so happy sans the exhaustion, because he's been around people all day and loves his job. 

You know what they say:  Absence makes the heart grow fonder.  And never trust a man in a wheel chair with dirty shoes. 

Wait. 

*thinky face*

That doesn't apply here.