Thanks, but no thanks...

It's so cliche, but as women don't we all take on certain things around the house because it's just easier. In our house, it is just easier for me to do all the cooking because my husband can't. Really, really can't!

Now that the boys are three and six my husband is really after me to take more time to exercise and do things for myself. He's been trying to free me up on Sunday afternoon, the trouble is dinner still needs to be cooked. It is truly our only afternoon together as a family; since he's always out in the morning mountain biking or running, then there's lunch, then naps, then family time. You see what I'm dealing with here.

So the other day everyone was so grumpy and I was tired of hearing myself scream, "Why can't you say those words with love in your voice!" that I took off - after I prepped dinner. I had pork chops marinating in the fridge in an 8x8 Pyrex dish covered with saran wrap, french fries cut up and soaking, and instructions for my husband on the counter.

With very little confidence but a lot of enthusiasm I left for the gym. The only instructions I left were as follows:

1. Turn on the oven at 5:15 to 425 degrees
2. Make a Greek salad

I tried to enjoy my time at the gym knowing the kids were not in the germ infested child-care center watching that idiotic Sponge Bob Square pants and learning all about God knows what from someone elses kid.

Last week my three-year-old said he wanted to marry me. I remember my sister telling me her son said that at three and she cherished the moment. Mine of course was quickly squashed when he announced we had to get married so that he could sleep in my bed- that's what Molly said.

After 35 minutes on the treadmill I debated going on to the weights. Something inside of me was saying - Go home. I tried to ignore that voice and headed for the weights. I did 50 or so sit-ups and the voice was no longer nagging at me to go home - it was screaming in my ear. Maybe I'll ease into this "alone time" thing.

I called home to say that I was on my way and the first thing my husband said was, "What! Why you not workout longer I got the salad made and dinner started, stay there." Thanks I said, but I think I got all the mental health break I can stand for one day. By the way, what do you mean you got dinner started? All I asked you to do was pre-heat the oven. "I saw the pork in the refrigerator and I put it in the oven already."

"Did you put it on the oven in the marinade with saran wrap over it?" I said trying not to sound too critical. This is what I heard, "Oh Sh!t" - click.

Thanks, but no thanks. I'll do the cooking.