While surfing through the FirstTimeMomandDad Archives, I found the post on my Mom Strike. I laughed so hard at myself, I had to repost it.
Posted in April of 2015, I'd just spent two-weeks focused on a project, not on my house. In that time, left up to the husband and child, the house became a proper shithole. There were toys everywhere, socks and shoes thrown about, dishes piling high, laundry piles that resembled the great Alps, a toddler bedroom that looked like a tornado hit it. It was like I was living in a frat house that runs a daycare.
I cracked.
And rightfully so.
Why in the hell should I have to do it ALL? Why am I the only one racing around keeping the frat house with a daycare, tidy? I'd hit my limit and needed the boys to step up to the cleaning-plate.
Starting immediately.
Those two were going to help me, or be in big ass trouble! So, I announced that I was going on mom strike. I was no longer jumping to cook or clean. I was no longer going to do it all! I was go…
Posted in April of 2015, I'd just spent two-weeks focused on a project, not on my house. In that time, left up to the husband and child, the house became a proper shithole. There were toys everywhere, socks and shoes thrown about, dishes piling high, laundry piles that resembled the great Alps, a toddler bedroom that looked like a tornado hit it. It was like I was living in a frat house that runs a daycare.
I cracked.
And rightfully so.
Why in the hell should I have to do it ALL? Why am I the only one racing around keeping the frat house with a daycare, tidy? I'd hit my limit and needed the boys to step up to the cleaning-plate.
Starting immediately.
Those two were going to help me, or be in big ass trouble! So, I announced that I was going on mom strike. I was no longer jumping to cook or clean. I was no longer going to do it all! I was go…
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