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How Do I Choose the Best Professional Cleaning Service

Keeping your home clean can be an exhausting task, especially if you have to squeeze it in between the chaos and work and keeping your family in line. And if your life feels like it’s nothing but cleaning and tedious chores, perhaps it’s…

How to Keep Your Pool Clean Without Using Chemicals

The weather is getting hotter and hotter, and if you haven’t done it already, you are probably getting ready to open your pool and start the swimming season. Having a pool in your backyard is wonderful, but it requires quite some effort before you…

8 Ways to Make Food Shopping as a Parent More Bearable

No one is denying children aren’t the gift that keep on giving. But, as a parent, there are just some tasks in day to day adult life that shouldn’t be accompanied by kids. Namely the weekly food shop. Opening yourself up to a world of whining, potential tantrums and…

I cannot be the only one...who sometimes realizes that as independent, as self assured, and as confident of a woman that I think I am, there are times that I am surprised by my need to be acknowledged for doing a job usually considered masculine.  How could a woman who want's to be treated as an equal in the world, and more importantly in my marriage, feel the need to receive the proverbial pat on the head by a man for a job well done...this is a mystery.

This anti-women's liberation tale begins on the way to Sonny Boy's school, after gathering the lunch box, backpack, and debating over the necessity of wearing a jacket in place of his super hero cape to school, we finally made it into the car.  As we are pulling out of the garage, I was mentally checking off my "are we really ready to leave check list", when I noticed a dingy little dash light refusing to turn off.  This orange light, with it's exclamation point within parenthesis, immediately caused a cord of anxiety within me (not to mention irritation). I started obsessing over what this light could mean, how was I going to fix it, and where was the time to fix it going to come from? After safely dropping Sonny Boy off at school I did something I truly despise, something that I generally avoid as though it were a kid with a runny nose, I opened up the car's owners manual.

I spent ten long seconds looking for the dash warning light section (the manual was surprisingly well organized) and deciphered the problem, the tires needed air.  My first thought was to simply not drive the car until the Hubby returned from work, at which time he could take the car to put air in the tires, but I really wanted to go out and grab a few things, meaning I was going to have to handle this all own my own...to read the rest of  how I realized how far I am from being a feminist, please visit my blog: I Cannot Be The Only One...

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