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So Fathers Day in our house turned into an afternoon about me instead of Mr Hausfrau. While trying to help move Random Boys bike out of our garage I felt pain tear across my back and I was down for the count!
Mr Hausfrau put me in a bear hug and vertically carried me to bed where I stayed until 7am this morning when I could finally walk, stagger, hobble like a little old lady.
I even needed to be carried to the toilet. If I ever needed a reminder about just how much Mr Hausfrau loves me it would be him carrying me to the loo and helping to support me while I tinkled. Yes that's right, love is...helping your wife tinkle.
So I got to spend more than 36 hours in bed and not feel guilty about a damn thing. Not a damn single thing!
But then...
... I got up this morning and realised that I now have double the work to do. I mean, Mr Hausfrau did a fantastic job looking after me yesterday. He got the kids ready for school. He served me breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed. Bought me drinks. Set me up with my laptop and everything I needed to stay sane. Pretty much waited on me hand and foot. I really can't complain about anything (and I shouldn't especially since he helped me tinkle) so let's word it a different way.
The things that happened while I stayed in bed for 36 hours that I want to complain about but I feel bad for wanting to complain about.
- The electric frypan from Sunday's Fathers Day brekky pancakes was still on the bench this morning. Dirty. According to Mr Hausfrau, "if it doesn't fit into the dishwasher it doesn't get washed".
- If I'm not around to chastise the kids and remind them what to do, things get messy. Very messy. Food wrappers found scattered in the kids lounge room for instance.
- Last nights dishes were waiting patiently for me to do them this morning. Awesome! Just what I wanted to do!
- The dirty clothes basket piled up quick. A little too quick. Surely he could do a load of his work shirts.
- Mr Hausfrau complained that there was stuff on the ironing board when he had to iron his own shirt this morning. "Geez honey, I'm sorry for not ironing your shirts. I guess I could have done them from bed". Bad Hausfrau, Bad!
- I was left with a teensy weensy amount of milk for my morning cuppa. Apparently no one could walk the 10ft to the freezer to grab out a frozen one to defrost.
But I really shouldn't complain. He did do a fantastic job of looking after ME and that's all the matters right? Right??
Ok, my undeserving bitch about Mr Hausfrau is over. I'm hitching up my big girl panties, popping another painkiller and heading off to do nothing.
Absolutely nothing!
I'm sure it'll all be waiting for me when I'm ready.
For the record Mr Hausfrau is very self sufficient. He can cook. He can cook very well. In fact he used to get paid to cook. Paid a lot. He can iron his own shirts. He enjoys telling me that he irons better than me. Pfft. As if. I just normally do all of these things as we chose that he would be the bringer of the bacon and I would stay home and cook it.
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