>> Sunday, April 18, 2010
*Steps on Soapbox*
OK, first let me say I love my husband. I do. I really appreciate that he stays home all day and watches the kids, cleans the house, does the cooking. But I also hate that I have to get up every day to work for us all. Admittedly, it's a pleasant sedentary job, one I'm good at. And I'm grateful to have it. I'm just not a morning person.
And I hate to go out. I hate to shop. I hate to crawl along malls. I hate to tromp. I hate to look at stuff that doesn't interest me or, worse, stuff that interests the people I love but I can't get them. It makes me feel like a failure even though we have what we need. I just want the people I love to have all they want, too. So, I feel guilty.
But, truthfully, it's also that I just don't want to go out. At any given time, I've got a jillion irons in the fire and a fraction of the time I'd need to do it to do it. And, if I didn't, there are a dozen leisure activities, including reading books and watching movies and playing with children and sleeping, I would prefer to do.
So, when we get Lee's mom to take the kids for an afternoon . . . we spend it window-shopping at a mall I hate with a parking lot I despise. I understand he needs to get out.
But I still hate it.
God, I'm dull.
*Steps off soapbox*