I’m a Bitch

I’m a bitch.  Well, at least that’s the general consensus around here tonight.  My mom sent me an article from the New York Times about writing memoirs.  It basically instructed the author to humiliate themselves; be both the antagonist and the protagonist in your own life story.  Or at least when trying to hook your audience.  Well, audience, here’s my most humiliating confession today.
I’m a bitch.  Those who can talk in this household told me so and those who couldn’t illustrated it with their obvious preference for Daddy.  The little one is sick again, so I asked my husband to try to make it home from work in time for bedtime (which only happens on Fridays, if we’re lucky).  So yes, it’s a novelty that the girls get to see Daddy before bed and who could really fault them for being so excited after they’ve put up with this bitch all day. While normally, I’d be thrilled to hand over the reigns and turn on some Real Housewives, their obvious preference for him to do all bedtime activities (bath, jammies, reading, zonk out – both Daddy and babies) had me a little miffed.  Then, there it was and I felt both numb and like the wind was knocked out of me.  Like I had been branded with a sparkly glitter-glued pink “B”.
I hear it from most moms I know.  At some point in time, their kid has said it, “I like Daddy more.”  Hold yourself back, ladies.  Don’t scream what immediately comes to mind (the profanities will only scare your child and perpetuate their previous confession).  I just thank my lucky stars that I have daughters, because one day I know they will understand the simple truth and I won’t even have to say what I would like to say to their future selves: I’m the one who forced you to have medicine even though you were kicking and screaming, because it made you feel better.  I’m the one that made you dinner and then told you every three minutes to take another bite, because it made you stronger and well nourished (and ps. I hardly even made you eat the veggies).  I’m the one that wiped your ass all day, so you didn’t have to walk around…. well, you know where this is going.  I’m the one that made you brush your teeth so that you didn’t have to go to the dentist every five minutes (but I was still the one who gave you that jellybean you enjoyed so much after lunch, you’re welcome). Although Daddy does his fair share, it’s this bitch who makes your world go ’round, little one. I sincerely hope you have the great fortune of being the bitch in your household one day.  I’ll wait to hear your appreciation then and I won’t hold it against you now.  It’s your father who gets punished tonight.
PS. Mom, I love you and I appreciate EVERYTHING you do, have done, will do.  I get it.

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