Whenever my husband confessed, murmuring, “I’m in love with her, but I love you too, I love you both,” I should have clicked my red slipper heels like Dorothy in Oz and shouted “yippee” with glee. Good luck with romance when I am no longer chief cook, maid, laundress, chauffeur, cheerleader, pet walker, financial adviser, accountant, tutor, and babysitter for you. And squeeze in a full time job! I am not inclined to facilitate your adultery any longer. So, for me, no more continuous laundry, no more dirty undershorts, no more huge mortgage to pay from miniscule paychecks, no more meals to cook, no more vacations to plan and pack for, no more complicated joint tax returns to prepare. No toilets to scrub, no kids doctors and dentists appointments to schedule and attend, no filthy floors to mop, no smelly bed sheets to change, no sock partners to match. I am outta here. Let him help with homework every single school night for 2 kids x 180 days a year x 18 years. How DO you figure the surface area of cones and cylinders and triangular prisms? What is there to write for 5 paragraphs about my daughter’s 3 favorite types of balls? Let him ensure that the kids get off to school every morning with breakfast in their bellies, a lunch (and snack) in their backpacks, and clean clothes on their bodies. He can wake up at 5 o’clock every morning to drive at least 20 miles just to get the kids to their different schools. And then get to work on time! Because I am done. After cooking 11,456 suppers, preparing 10,298 lunches, and even more breakfasts, after peeling potatoes, slicing carrots, chopping collard greens, stringing green beans, husking corn, breaking eggs, toasting bagels, grilling cheese sandwiches, broiling steaks, boiling pasta, let’s see how irritable he is. Not to mention grocery shopping for enough food to feed the family and whatever random straggling friends my kids bring with them. I am gone. No more holidays to remember for thoughtless in-laws, no more birthday cakes to bake, no more Christmas Eve parties for dozens, no trimming dirty dog butts or cleaning disgusting cat litter pans. No more grubby dishes in the sink when I wake, no more grimy dishes on the counter when I return from work. No more crabby teenage glares and eye rolling to endure, no more responses to “what do we have to eat?” no more standing in the freezing cold to watch horseback riding and soccer games, no more sitting in the heat listening to endless grammar school bands and chorus concerts and horrendous junior high musical plays. I am free. No more Saturdays spent shopping and schlepping every errand impossible to accomplish during the workweek. No more Sundays cooking 5 meals for the week ahead. No more lunch hours (actually half hours) spent racing home to start the pot cooking over low heat so we can have homemade chicken soup for supper. It is over. No more school clothes to fold at 3 am. only to find the cat sleeping inside the dryer, no more bank statements to try to reconcile, no more baking and wrapping and sending 20 dozen Christmas cookies, no more teaching Sunday school every week for year after year, no more bus rides on field trips to swamps and plantations and outdoor classrooms and aquariums. You take care of this crap! THAT is what I should have shouted. As kids nowadays say, “Peace out.”
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