Mr. Gaga went to China last week.
I know a lot of you will be rolling your eyes and not feeling bad for me. Many of you have husbands that travel for work regularly or are overseas in the military.
For me, I am married to someone who doesn’t travel for work and has a flexible enough schedule that I can count on him to help me out during the week. I have grown accustomed to having a willing and able partner in my home. That partner is a man. That man is someone who does “man” things like take out the garbage and recycle bins and other unpleasant tasks that I don’t want to do.
“How are you going to survive this week without your husband?” my mother asked me when he left.
“I’ll be fine – I mean they are in school and I go to work and I have my sitter in the afternoons…” I answered defensively.
I was fine. We were busy going to activities and lessons and doing homework after school. We watched our television programs, American Idol, Survivor and The Goldbergs at night.
Life went on.
And let’s be real here folks. We might sometimes be annoyed with our loving husbands. We might be sick of picking up their dirty socks, and listening to them snore and making them dinner. We might look forward to a week of not shaving our legs and having a huge bed all to ourselves!
Except….slowly but surely – I realized that I actually depend on Mr. Gaga quite a bit for the most unexpected reasons….
Here are some new-found reasons why I appreciate my husband:
Toilet Maintenance –
So last week I mentioned that I was very excited about the new and improved Ultra Tampax tampon that can stop any heavy period in it’s tracks.
Well guess what else it stops in it’s tracks…
I have heard mixed reviews on whether or not tampons should be flushed down the toilet. My understanding has always been that the benefit and luxury of tampons is that they can be flushed.
I learned the hard way, that when you use a tampon the size of a small child – then you should definitely skip the flushing down the toilet piece.
Needless to say, two days without Mr. Gaga and our upstairs toilet was completely clogged with no hope for repair. I attempted to plunge the toilet with a plunger that I found in the closet – but apparently I am not good at plunging.
I forgot to tell the kids not to use the toilet and Michael promptly when in and took a huge shit – so it became a real problem that I could not for the life of me solve.
I put a “Do Not Use” sign on the door and a big orange cone in the hallway and resigned to life with only one toilet until Mr. Gaga’s return.
As a good Italian woman I cook delicious dinners for my family everyday….almost. There are times ….especially during this time of year, when summer is just around the corner, when I enjoy eating salads with grilled chicken or steak.
I count on Mr. Gaga for the grilling of meats.
From what I understand, from other foolish women who have agreed to learn, operating a grill is quite easy.
It’s a skill that I have chosen to refuse to learn about.
I do enough.
I launder everyone’s clothing and sign their stupid permission slips and make their lunches. I provide homemade baked goods regularly and cook delicious authentic Italian foods.
I regularly fry chicken cutlets and penne a la vodka and eggplant parm and I prepare a delicious homemade sauce every Sunday. I am not about to go in the outdoors and operate a fucking grill like a homeless tailgater.
So needless to say – this week I was left to my own devices. There were no grilled food items served….and I missed them…..and also I found that I could no longer fit in my pants.
Having someone to keep me in check:
How could I get so fat in just a few days?
Mr. Gaga and I often work on our common goals together. We will say something like “Let’s not eat carbs this month!” or “Let’s only drink 6 days this week instead of 7!”
This system works because if I want to slip up and
drink straight vodka on a Monday afternoon or order a pizza with pepperoni and extra cheese and eat the whole thing myself have a slice of gluten free toast when we agreed to not eat carbs, I think twice. I stop myself from making poor choices because I don’t want Mr. Gaga to think of me as a weak, fat, alchoholic.
Well guess what happens when my “partner” is in China?
I thought I had pretty decent self-control, but come to find out – I really need that other person in the house to look at me with disgust.
Getting to the gym:
Well when you eat and drink everything your heart desires, at the very least – you can always wake up in the morning and hit the gym to make up for your failures. Unless…..your husband is in China.
I usually go to the gym in the morning and go to work around 10:30 and stay a little later in the evening, knowing that Mr. Gaga will come home to relieve the sitter. Or I will go to the gym at night when Mr. Gaga is home after dinner.
Without him, I was faced with the very unpleasant prospect of paying a sitter so I could exercise.
That just seemed absurd!
I decided it was most important that I was home with my children, and that instead of paying a sitter while I waste precious time on the elliptical machine – I’d rather just be fat.
Going to bed:
After a long week of eating and drinking with reckless abandon and not going to the gym – there’s nothing more that I want to do is just roll around in my big empty bed.
There’s something so exciting about having a huge bed all to yourself without having to worry about a big huge sweaty man next to you hogging the blankets.
However, I miscalculated the emptiness factor of said bed.
My children decided that they would “keep me company.”
You know what’s a hell of a lot worse than one huge man in your bed?
Two huge men in your bed.
I pictured a week living large in my bed – surrounded by millions of pillows….
But instead of this luxurious sleeping arrangement with me, myself and I – I found myself tortured and cold, surrounded by annoying children.
Mr. Gaga finally returned this weekend. He was so happy to see us but was probably alarmed to see me. After a week without him I had ballooned into an exhausted bloated ghost of who I once was.
It’s shocking actually, what can happen in just one week….
Thank God he’s home.
I AM A WEAK, FAT ALCOHOLIC – WHAT CAN I SAY? XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA