Whenever I talk about how much the boys wear me out, or complain about something they did or about housework, or whatever, my wife usually responds that she’ll gladly change places with me. Meaning that I can get a job outside of the house and she’ll stay home with the children. Even though the arrangement is by mutual choice, there’s not much I can say to that, so it always annoys me.
But then when she’s home for a while, and starts getting frazzled just dealing with the boys for a couple hours, I can’t help but grin. To myself. Quietly.
To be fair, I know that it’s because she isn’t home all the time with them, but still . . .
