So, this past weekend with my husband was interesting. He didn’t have to work so I didn’t get any babysitters to help us. I romanticized that we would have the perfect family weekend; bonding with our little girls, going for walks in the park, having picnics, everything being perfect — you know, very Norman Rockwell. Of course, it was more like Family Guy — completely dysfunctional.

I love my husband. In fact I really think that he does more than most fathers, and seems to do a lot more than my friends’ husbands. I can really rely on him. He helped me so much during the first weeks of motherhood. I was completely stressed out and overwhelmed, and he was my rock. But now it’s been 7 weeks and I have a pretty good routine with the girls. I have babysitters that help me and follow the direction I set. So, of course I thought taht this weekend would be a breeze with my husband since everything has been going so smoothly for the past few weeks.

I love how men think their way is the better way. I love how men keep score of how much they did around the house or with the kids and that you should be in awe of this helpfulness. I love how men just sit around until you tell them to do something. I love how men can be surrounded by clutter and never worry to pick any of it up. (I am using “love” very, very lightly).

Needless to say, the weekend ended up being more exhausting than my week at work. I literally had to say, “ok, one twin is sleeping and the other one is working on it. I’m going to clean the kitchen, so can you watch the girls and if they cry please tend to them.” Otherwise he would just play with the iPad and not pay attention to what was going on in the room. And the kicker was that he was telling me how to properly feed the girls, a better way to bathe the girls and other very “useful” tips that were completely annoying.

All weekend I could only think of two things. #1 – I love my babysitters and #2 – thank God the weekend is almost over. I love you honey, now go away!