Friday, June 20, 2008

Re-negotiating my contract.

It has come to light that Chris has quite a good job. They've bought him a new phone and laptop and all of his "meetings" seem to happen at the golf course or the bar. His office is close to home (but not so close that he's within tantrum-range), his cubicle is air-conditioned, and there are people over the age of five to talk to during the day. Not a bad gig, in my opinion. Not to mention the regular I-Don't-Work-At-Home stuff: lunches that don't involve leftovers, lunch-hour gym trips, and a regular paycheck.

Meanwhile, I talk in mainly toddler-ese, change diapers, and regularly climb the mountain of laundry. My lunch hour consists of doing dishes and eating whatever leftovers (many times the crust of a PB&J) can be found. I think I'll stick with my job though. I get to throw parties over pee-peeing in the potty, meet my co-workers around the kiddie pool, and my paycheck might not be regular, but it gets delivered with a hug and sloppy kiss. Instead of a raise, I get to watch Alexa learn new things-such as how to most effectively throw a tantrum. I'd take a two-year-old tantrum over a relaxing margarita at the bar anyday. After all, my name is Mommy.

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