It’s possible I’m a horrible wife. If you follow my social media channels, you know it’s been a little rocky up in here. If you don’t follow me,
umm, hello!?! now you know; I’ve been struggling.
I have a ton on my plate and balancing all the things often leaves me flustered, irritable and really really dumb. It’s extra difficult to maneuver life this way, so I started thinking about ways I could lesson the load and make everything more manageable. Cloning myself is obviously out of the question as it requires scientific expertise that I simply do not have. So, I have decided to do the next best thing; hire a sister wife!
I know, I know, what a fantastic idea, right?! This will surely be the answer and solution.
I’ve never seen the show “Sister Wives,” and I’m not sure that “hiring” is the right word or even how to go about head hunting for the open positions. It would be pretty cool if there was some sort of catalog I could just order some from. No, I do not condone human trafficking, it’s disgusting to even joke about… BUT, the catalog thing = great idea. I’ve been working on the job description. Here’s what I’ve come up with…
- Minimum Masters degree in anything that requires a ton of explanation and long stories to keep the children amused. Smoke and mirrors in the form of intelligent conversation will definitely be a refreshing change from the disgusting toilet/poop talk I am used to.
- Must possess the following super powers: ability to lower a toilet seat, put the cap back on a tube of toothpaste, and replace an empty toilet paper/paper towel roll with a fresh one.
- Applicants should not be skinnier or prettier than I am. Obviously.
- Strong aversion to exercise in all forms is highly preferred. If you’re going to insist on talking about your incredible yoga classes or unprovoked decision to jog more than twice a week, it’s probably better if we just settle into the fact that we’re not meant to be.
- Wearing extremely unflattering nightgowns and tennis shoes every day is optional, but totally encouraged.
- Please know how to cook…like anything. I suck in the kitchen and would love a home cooked meal that my poor husband doesn’t have to slave over. I make a killer chicken parm, but that”s where my culinary skill ends. It has been scientifically proven here that there is a limit to how many times one meal can be served without refusal to eat ever again.
- Please be fluent in all sorts of Common Core math and able to break down all the real reasons 4+4=8. Must also be comfortable with intense amounts of aggression and being screamed at merely because you are trying to help.
- Must be quick on your feet and possess way more energy than a pack of wild chihuahuas hiding an addiction to meth amphetamines.
- Please be able to translate and articulate the meanings behind countless and explosive tantrums/meltdowns no matter how ridiculous those meanings might be.
- Qualified mental health and social workers strongly urged to apply. It’s always good to have more than one of those around. Licensed to prescribe and dispense medication? Even better.
- Please be down for binge watching Lifetime Television, “Bridesmaids” and/or Hallmark movies and inhaling junk food like an Olympic athlete, without shame, at all times.
- High risk, frontline conflict resolution skills are a must. My children spend the majority of their lives attempting to kill each other, and applicants should be ready and willing, at a moments notice, to be tagged into the ring and risk life and limb to break it up.
Serious inquiries only.
This is a 168 hours per week, unpaid position with no time off or sick days. Benefits are paid in love, backwards and often highly offensive “compliments,” high-fives, occasional cuddles, room and board.
We are an equal opportunity family and will look over and consider all submitted applications. P.S. Please submit your application to me directly as I have not yet shared this amazing idea with my husband. Thanks in advance! I look forward to sharing everything with you….(except my hair straightener — that’s off limits).