It took me 3 months to finish the movie End game. WTF, I mean, people spent that much time creating the movie, and I spent that much time watching it? It is a 3-hour-long move for goddamn’s sake.
But hell, I haven’t had any break for almost 17 months. Since my little sexy butt was born, I haven’t had a break.
Translation: I did eat my candy bars, cheese and all that unhealthy shit for a long time, but damn, that’s for eating. We are talking about movies here.
You bet I complained about it a lot to my husband, regardless of all the self-help books I had read and zen shit I had done, I still turn myself to a bitchiest nag of the year.
If there is a reward for the bitchiest nag, I think I’mma go for it.
Now just for disclaimer, I do have an amazing husband and my son has an amazing dad. He totally kicks some asses when it’s time to kick ass, but he is also a sloth in other times.
He is my Shrek, and I’m his Fiona (the Fiona after transforming to green, not the white Fiona).
But as a man as he is, he is clueless about all the shit I do. I know that it’s not because he is stupid or something, but he just thinks differently. Sometimes I thought he is blind, but the truth is he didn’t even see the dishes piled up in the sink (how odd).
Sometimes he washed Ethan’s poopy ass, then I found a big ass piece of shit on the bathroom floor, and I smelled it too, but he didn’t even see.
So here it goes, I’mma limit it into 3 things each list, on why I’m saying I’m like a completely-kick-ass mom, wife and bitch, and sometimes get my ass kicked by life too.
A kick ass mom
I read a whole bunch of books on raising kids
As opposed to my husband who doesn’t really like reading books or anything that has words in it (he does know how to read though, even though he still makes lots of spelling mistakes), I read a big ass pile of books about kids.
Sometimes though, I do get confused as heck while reading. One book tells you one thing and the other book tells you the opposite. As I cannot trace back to the authors to see how their children turn out, so I guess I just read, collect what I think is right and trust my own ass.
I actually applied, or at least tried to apply what I learnt
I deserve a big and loud clap for this. Not only I read, I even applied them (what, really?).
I didn’t treat those raising babies books like how I treat my self-help books (ie, read, make plans to change, refuse to change the next day and move on).
I tried to put my son to sleep alone since he was only 2 months old. I ended up collecting my shit and joined him in his room after an hour, but still, at least I tried.
I tried to teach my son to eat by himself, and follow the baby-led-weaning method. I still spoon him till today, but still, at least I tried.
Hey, but books are great. I teach him how to put away his wet cloth diapers, and he loves reading books too.
I cursed inside my head (not at my son), then I said “I love you” to him
I just took him a bath and tried to put him to sleep. Then he pooped his diaper, without letting me know.
I tried to do dishes after dinner. I was exhausted and he tried to push me away from the sink, because he wanted to turn my body to face him and pick him up (awwww – super cute. But try it when you are exhausted and just want to get shit done before bedtime)
But I’m so f'king proud of myself, for I almost never spanked him or yelled at him. (I did raise my voice one time though).
An awesome wife
Wash dishes and clean the kitchen counter
For some time I strongly believed that my husband’s eyesight was really bad. He never seems to see the dirty dishes piling up in the sink or the greasy kitchen counter.
He manages to put trash in the sink or put dirty dishes in it though. At least his hands are not hurt.
Get important shit done
I love (ie, hate to the deepest crack of my crack) all the paperwork and documents shit. But as they have words in them, it’s always my job to get those shit done.
I guess I still have to be thankful because my husband can read (this is a funny one).
Pack food ahead
I don’t like cooking. Or preparing food. But for some reasons, I still have to do it.
Pretty much every weekend. When every husband is resting, I pack food ahead.
To my husband: you are so damn handsome, just looking at your ass warms my genitals. But I still don’t like cooking.
A nagging bitch (to my husband and myself)
My husband is not a copy of me
I expect my husband to see, and then appreciate, and treat me like a queen, and do everything for me, and still put up with my shit. Wait, I think I just want a wife for myself too.
As a wife, you bet my job is to nag my man when he is not being my wife.
My body is not it’s always been
I still have baby weight. And it piles up at my belly. And every time I look at myself in the mirror, that extra-large cheese candy bar surely does appear.
More often than I should, I find myself pinching and flipping my fat up and down.
I got my son some flip-and-flap books, so I practice by flipping and flapping my cheese too.
My job is not what I want
I’m in the process of getting what I want. Even though I’m working not to nag myself too much, I still do more than I should.
I guess one day I can really master the non-nagging technique, and stop giving shit to myself.
I’m still in the process of figuring this crap out.
Maybe the same kickass mom, a more awesome wife and less of a nagging bitch?
Or maybe more of a kickass mom, more awesome wife and more nagging bitch? It depends on the days I guess.