Not Guilty, Your Honour

Unless you count Mother's guilt, that is.

My husband sneakily snapped this pic when he was at home with us the other day.
During the week.

There I am getting a breath of fresh air, while feeding the baby.

Yes, I've removed my shoes as it's quite the lengthy process with Missi - so I may as well get comfortable.

Yes, the deck has a lovely breeze flowing through it and the pool is lovely to sit beside.

Yes, they are lemons and a peach nicked from the neighbour's trees. She doesn't mind one bit.
Yes, the boy was happily playing with the water table nearby.

Yes, that is the telephone between my shoulder and my ear. It rang, I answered it.

A beautiful moment in time in my day.
No doubt about it.

Except now, Hubby would like to submit this photograph as evidence in his prosecution.

Of me.

Me and my apparently exaggerated 'facade' that being a full time stay at home parent is a pretty consuming job.

Aaaah.
The age old case of

Wife v Husband

Primary Carer v Full Time Employed Outside The Home.

In mounting my own defense, I intend to now photograph...
the dirty butts I wipe multiple times a day,
the various states of Hubby's clothing (and pillow cases!) before I wash them,
the unmade beds I rectify over and over, 
the dodgy trolley wheel (and sloooow cashier) I encounter at least a couple of times each week,
the various components that comprise dinner - and each step in the process,
the pouting, crying faces of his children,
the dishes and bottles that I wash a number of times each day,  
the spare dog that I sweep off the patio each week,
the disgusting toilets that greet me,
the food I prepare that remains uneaten or unappreciated,
the trashed toy room,
the bills I pay (and accounts I juggle/try to stretch),
the state of my car after carting our children and lives around all week,
the marks I remove from the walls, windows and furniture, 
the dust I clean,
the gifts that I source, purchase and wrap,
the crumbs that cover every surface until I come along,
the showers I scrub....
etc. etc. etc.

I will also record the soothing sounds of the washing machine, the vacuum cleaner, the baby screaming in her car seat, the boy asking questions all day long, the dog barking, the whinging, the crying, the sleep refusal, the bottle refusal, the 'I wants",
the damn Peppa Pig theme song ...

He and his bench - they'll get the idea.

Your honour, I intend to prove beyond any reasonable doubt that full time parenting is a valid 'job'
and to argue otherwise is actually inviting response of a criminal nature.

But, judge, please let the record show that the rewards of being incarcerated in this place all week long
are also worth every minute of my current 'sentence'.
I'm simply defending my right to complain, threaten to quit (or cry) after a hard day here.

Shar :-)