There has been some upheaval recently, under the roof of this redneck. What with my recent hearing loss, and the kids home for the summer, it’s taken me a bit to find my bearings.

I spend a lot of time yelling, “Huh? What? I can’t hear you!!” while pretending I actually care that we ran out of grape flavoured popsicles.

My husband, bless his sweet soul, apparently got tired of listening to me whine about how not being able to hear out of one side of my head is driving me nuts, how the kids are paid employees of the Devil himself, intent on driving me batshit crazy and how life would be so much easier if he were home.

(I know…banging my head against a pile of sharp pointy rocks as I type this.)

Boo did the unthinkable. He quit his job. Without telling me, and drove home. Because that’s what insane people loving husbands do. They make huge life altering decisions without including their spouses in the process and pull the plug on the only source of income that supports four people and provides a family with small necessities such as groceries and shelter.

My darling Boo, however, is unconcerned with such trivialities as money and bills and small whiney mouths that demand to be fed at all times of the day. I truly believe he thinks I keep a money tree hidden out back which we can grab hundred dollar bills off at any time.

Colour me stupid and somewhat shocked, when the front door opened and in walked my husband, bags in hand and sporting a big silly grin. “Honey, I’m home!”

No shit Sherlock. After blinking a couple of times to make sure the mommy juice I was sipping on wasn’t messing with my brain, I realized I wasn’t delusional and my husband really was home. Ahead of schedule. Which is never good.

After Boo gallantly told his boss to shove it and walked off site, he drove six hours to get home, all the while dreaming of how pleased I would be to have him home. He may have envisioned blow jobs and kinky sex while professing my gratitude at his thoughtfulness.

Sadly, the screeching he heard didn’t involve “Oh Big Daddy! OH! OHHHH!” with nails clawing down his bare back. It was more of the “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR F***KING MIND?” variety.

But my darling Boo had a plan. One that involved sitting on me to avoid my flailing limbs and muzzling me so he could explain he didn’t just grab a ticket to Poor-ville, he had a new job. One that would allow him to be home every night and tuck his children to bed and still provide me with the life style I had become accustomed to.

(Yet another shining example of how I freak right the fack out before learning all the facts. Heh.)

Like myself, Boo dreamt of the day he could be home every night and how life would much easier if he were home with his family.

There may have been some slight differences between our visions though. Boo mistakenly thought being home in his own bed every night would lead to unadulterated sex EVERY. NIGHT. OF. THE. WEEK. And at least TWICE a night.

I dreamt of having the garbage taken out before it started to fester and attract flies and having my oil changed on a regular basis. The oil in my CAR, I explained to him as I batted his groping hands off my boobs.

Turns out, neither of our dreams have come true.

Boo thought he’d use all his energy and time doing me instead of doing things FOR me.

Me, turns out my life of leisure has come to a screeching halt now that my man is home every night. Life was easier when I didn’t have to worry about cooking and cleaning.

Instead of having to entertain and amuse two kids, now I’ve got another person added to the mix, wanting to be entertained at all hours. Except his version of entertainment is grabbing my arse or my boobs and seeing if “I’ll go for it.”

Cuz, as he explains, you can’t catch a fish if you don’t bait the hook.

Who says dreams can’t come true? Just take it from me, be careful what you wish for.