I’m a terrible housewife. Seriously.

I have a serious confession. I am a terrible housewife. If I’m being super honest, my husband is better than I am. Just to be clear, here are a list of things I’m terrible at:

  1. Cooking
  2. Doing Laundry
  3. Keeping the house clean
  4. Fixing things
  5. Washing my hair (ironically)
  6. Planning- anything
  7. Doing Laundry

The list goes on and on. And really, keeping the house clean would be so much easier if the other 5 people in my house didn’t live here! Want to know what my husband is good at, all but number 2. Now that I think about it, we’re lucky we ever have any clean laundry! But really, he does it all. He can cook, and I mean really cook! He is the grocery man, the vacation planner, and the budgeter. He showers more often (probably because he has more time) and lately, he has gotten great at learning how to fix more around the house, saving us quite a bit of money. He even asked for a new vacuum for Christmas! Yep- you read that right. Hell, I can barely work the remote half the time! Even my dad says he wishes he could be married to my him!

But enough about him. (No really, he’s got a huge head, it doesn’t need to get any bigger!) Want to know one thing I am good at? Organizing. Okay, really, it’s just my OCD. My husband will clean but if he doesn’t put something back in the right spot- HELL to the NO! And man, when my kids “clean” their playroom, I can’t even look in the bins because I’ll go crazy seeing the trucks in with the Barbie dolls.

Anyone else have this problem? Want to know how I fight the OCD battle, the room stays dirty. If it’s not put away, I can’t complain about it not being organized, right? Wow, I think I have a serious problem.


That’s my problem. I’m always tired. Always. I’m tired from the lack of sleep, since my only free time is late at night. I’m tired from fighting with small life sucking versions of myself. And even just looking at a mess makes me tired!

But recently, I had an epiphany: One day my house is going to be spotless. I won’t have any children running around making memories and messes. I won’t have an entire sink full of dishes every day. And I might even learn how to cook, and won’t be able to smack my husband’s butt and tell him good job while he’s slaving over dinner. And you know what, I’ll miss it all.

Well, all except that damn laundry!