Blurbs from the Burbs by Chickysara

I love the way my husband comes in after I’ve completely come un-glued and told the kids off at the top of my lungs. He walks in like he’s the sheriff or something and he is going to come in with a big plan to make all the pilgrims happy. He seems flummoxed when his nosing in like this pisses me off even more. He’s like “Here I am to fix the mess you’ve made.” And I’m like “Oh so NOW you want in on this? Where the hell have you been the entire time I have been on my own coping with YOUR children’s problematic homework issues? Huh…where were you then???” I always come off looking like Denzel Washington while he gets to be Ethan Hawke in Training Day. It’s so unfair. Because every single day, I get to play bad cop, nagging about unfinished homework, pointing out that neatness counts, and making sure that exactly twenty minutes of reading has been completed—not fifteen minutes, not eighteen minutes—exactly twenty minutes. Meanwhile, he gets to do “important” things like checking his e-ma...