The Jealousy Factor

I hate to admit this, but I'm a tiny bit jealous of my husband.

No, it's not what you think. He doesn't work with some hot little piece who fawns over him all day long. And he doesn't have some sort of uber-glamorous job where he hobnobs with all the beautiful people all day long. And he doesn't come home from work every day whistling Dixie.

But our daughters do love him more than me.

At this moment in time, my husband goes to work and I stay home with the 3 kids. That wasn't the way we planned on it happening, but it so happens that's the way it worked out, so that's where we are. He usually leaves for work before 8 a.m. and on a good day, he's home before the girls go to bed, around 7 p.m. He works really hard and his job is physically and mentally exhausting. I really appreciate the fact that he goes to work everyday and makes the money that pays the bills and keeps us in our house. In exchange, I keep track of the munchkins, clean the house (insert chuckle here), make sure the bills get paid, do the cooking, make the doctor's appointments, endure the vaccinations, get up with whomever wakes up at night and all the other stuff entailed in daily life with 3 small children.

And yet, in spite of all the stuff I do, in plain sight of our children, he is the favorite.

My girls literally scream (yes, scream) with joy when their dad walks in the door. They barrel towards him as if they were on fire and he was the only remaining fire extinguisher.

Do they do this when I come home? Of course not. I'm lucky if they get off the couch to give me a kiss. And if they do, it's most likely because either I or their father have instructed them to do so. Both my daughters have puked on me more times than I can count and they can't be bothered to turn their heads when I walk in the room.

My husband says they act like this because he's gone all day and barely gets to see them.

Me? I hope at least my son decides I get to be the favorite, once he's old enough to choose.