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My dear and darling husband sent me this today in an email that just said - take notes.  Okay, well then, let's take some notes!

I see right off the bat that I'm going to have some problems.  I don't even own any heels.  Or a dress.  S doesn't wear a suit.  We're going to have to go shopping.  I'm okay with that.  I don't think S is going to like the suit though.  Or trading in our 3 kids for the 2 in the picture.  But this was his idea.

Next - dinner.  OH.  You mean I have to cook?  If you say so.  And you want it to be ready when S gets home?  But he doesn't even EAT when he gets home.  He does his workout.  Did he even read this thing before he sent it to me?

Prepare myself - make-up and ribbons in my hair.  I don't think I've worn a ribbon since I was 6.  I'll see if Lex has one I can borrow.  And the next line wants me to be a little gay.  Is that still politically correct?  Well, it would be interesting!  And if my husband has had a boring day, by Jove, I'll spice it up for him!  Who wants to volunteer to come and help?  Hmm, I might have to add a few things to that shopping trip....

Clear away the clutter?  Have these people ever seen my house?  It's nothing but clutter.  I do not have time to both cook and clean.  Build a fire?  And all of it done before S gets home.  They want the kids clean and QUIET?  Little treasures??  Are they smoking crack?  I'm starting to think the people who wrote this article have never actually been in a house with children.  Or possessions.  Or beds without restraints.

Greet him with a smile.  Finally!  Something I can do.  Hey, I even kiss him.  Hah!  Take that crazy article writers!

Oh come on now!  This is just getting ridiculous.  S's topics of conversation are not more important than mine. He would tell you that himself.  And if I have to have dinner waiting for him when he gets home, you bet your buttons I'm going to complain if he's late.  And I don't care if every computer in his network crashes and the entire data center burns down... if he stays out all night, I'm going to be one ticked off wife.  (taking notes S?)

I don't need to take off his shoes - he's got the kids trained to do that for him.  I guess I can get him a pillow... but I reserve the right to hit him over the head with it.

Oh - wait, I see.  A good wife knows her place.  And I know mine.  I'm the domestic engineer.  That means all these decisions fall to me, so I can say to hell with it all!

Cereal and toast for dinner, dust bunnies everywhere, noisy kids rushing daddy at the door when he gets home, me, sitting on the couch in my jeans, ribbonless, leaning up for my kiss, telling him that his kids are driving me crazy before asking how his day was.  All 5 of us loving each other, loving our crazy imperfect life. And I don't think S would change it either.