The other day I was driving from Houston to Dallas, a most UN-inspiring stretch of road if ever there was one, listening to the sounds of Dora mesmerizing Knute in the backseat. At mile marker 203 on I-45 north I glanced at the batwatch. It was just after noon. This was, without a doubt synchronized – of that I was certain, and I picked up my phone and began to dial a number. A number I’d never dialed before.
And, she answered. Of course, the synchronization was off a little bit as she had to make a run to the Dairy Queen. I will fully accept that delay as a valid excuse. DQ Country stretches across the entire state of Texas, and you could miss almost anything, including church to hit DQ. She said she’d call me back. I went back to the mind-numbing driving northward.
Then the phone rang. And, it was all good. You see, in addition to guest posting on Rachel’s blog today, I, Holly the Anglophile, spent about half an hour talking to her this past Sunday. And, I cannot gush about her enough. We discussed so many trivial and huge topics.
Don’t you love the friendships this medium provides? Only through blogging would this have happened. Two people who know intimate details about one another, who have shared a little laughter & tears – yet have never met, conversing like old friends. I have to say, there was nary a pause in the conversation. When you know so much about a person already, the blind date factor is gone.
The main conversation focused on whether or not husbands are capable of “doing” the SAHM thing the way we do. Is it possible for them to keep the house, watch the kids, and maintain their sanity? We both happened to agree we really doubted it. And, as Rachel’s hubby is on duty while she is high rolling in Sin City, we wondered how well he would fare. Both Rachel and I agreed her hubs was going to sink or swim…and we secretly think this is going to be good for him.
Mothering is NOT an easy job. I learn this in at least ten posts a day, in addition to experiencing it myself. Husbands may get a few hours here or a day there when we escape the clutches of domesticity. But, do they really understand? I’ve often wonder if we all forced a week of mothering on them how large the robin’s egg blue box greeting us would be when we came home. Hmm. Remind me to plan a few days away to force Puppy to be in charge, okay?
What say you? Will it be feast or famine in the Kingdom of Southern Fairytales? I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt…and the Tiffany website url just in case.