Domestic Godess Days are OVAH, buddy.

 I was the ultimate , wait, scratch that, a good housewife. A domestic godess, rather. The kids were taken care of, house was clean and dinner was on the table the minute he walked through the door. Chaos was kept down to the low roar setting when 'hubby' came home. However, staying home just wasn't enough. I just had to go back to work. I needed adult interaction. I needed conversation. Something other than Dora the Explorer or visiting the stupid rat at Chuck E. Cheese.  I could not bear to wipe another bottom or catch a boogie with my sleeve, anymore.

Apparently, this is where I screwed up.  

I came home today to utter chaos. Toys EVERYWHERE, blankets hung on bunk beds and chairs, the days dishes overflowing the sink, trash outside of the trash can and this awful smell. My youngest was covered in dirt so much on first glance I thought he had black eyes.  This was NOT how I left my house and children today when I went to work. 

I left the kids with 'hubby' and that was my first mistake. I just don't understand how you can't just pick up after yourself. It's really not that hard. Trash goes in the trash can. Laundry in the hamper. When you play with this toy, put it up  before you get a new one. This is obviously a really hard concept for anyone other than me. 

I work 40+ hours a week only to work twice as hard at home. I don't even have a weekend anymore. I get off work on Fridays to only rush home to pray I get everything done by Monday. I didn't raise them to be pigs and 'hubby' used to be such a neat freak, my changing outfits in the morning and leaving them on the bed was an outrageous crime. 

Now, let me tell you. I've come up with the sweetest revenge. I give up. I'm done. Throwing in the towel. No more cleaning from Mom. I'll just wear shoes constantly to avoid those damned Lego's and whatever bodily fluid that might end up on my pretty carpet. My kids can look like Mini-Hobos and do what they want. The 'hubby' can wash his own laundry and make his own meals. And I'll just sit back while my house becomes condemned and when they say 'why, Mom, why don't you clean and cook for us anymore?' (in their whiny voices) I'm sure I will have some sly remark such as 'You wanted to be pigs, so I let you all live like pigs' or 'I wanted a new house.' Or something better than all of that. I still have fire coming from my face, so my brain isn't really working this evening. But, it'll be good. It will be really good. 

**evil laughter** 

I hope you step on Lego, kid, those things hurt and MAYBE you'll THEN put the damn things away.