This is really all your fault.
You see, it’s you that keeps on insisting that we need to buy our kids clothes. Like, real clothes. I’ve tried to explain to you that one of the perks of homeschooling is PAJAMAS ALL THE TIME, but you insist that the kids need real clothes for when we leave the house. Sigh.
The problem was, we had all these outfits for our children, and not enough storage space. Since I know you don’t appreciate the “homey touch” I feel the piles of laundry on our couch add, I decided that I would surprise you by doing something about it. Namely, I was going to get the boys a dresser and assemble it. Oh, the joy you would feel when you came home to no piles, and rows and rows of folded socks! Certainly my wifely awesomeness would be unrivaled.
When I ordered the dresser from Amazon, a little window popped up telling me that for $150, a local business would assemble and install the dresser for me. Seriously? You want me to pay someone $150 to put together a $5o dresser?
I now know that $150 is barely enough to cover the alcohol I required after putting together that damn dresser.
I mean, I guess I should have known it was going to be difficult when it said it required two adults to assemble. I figured that having two half-adults on hand was basically the same thing. We got this.
Did you know that telling your kids they can “help” and giving them tools turns them into total raving lunatics?
Four hours into dresser assembly, I am surrounded by particle board while the older child chases the younger one with a hammer. I am sweaty, I am angry, and those piles of laundry are looking pretty damn amazing right now.
Speaking of particle board, here’s a fun fact: when you stand up a cheap dresser whose screws and fasteners don’t fit together quite right, particles of that particle board will start to fall off, until the whole thing collapses in a faux wood heap.
By hour six I’ve busted out the duct tape and the nails. This MFer is going to get assembled, and these awful directions printed in eight different languages can suck it. Mama is putting together this dresser, even if it requires super glue and a nail gun.
It’s about this time that you came home to find me muttering threats of violence to a piece of furniture and sweating more than I did when I gave birth. Child birth was less stressful than putting together this dresser. PUSHING OUT YOUR GIANT HEADED NINE POUND BABIES WAS MORE ENJOYABLE THAN ASSEMBLING THIS DRESSER.
I guess what I am trying to say is — the ultimate act of love in a relationship isn’t sacrifice or faithfulness, it’s cheap furniture assembly. And obviously, I love you very much.