It's official, official. I am officially married. I'm officially a mom to be. And I am officially freaking out that I have to become domestic. Now no one is pressuring me to become domestic. My husband, Frank, is completely supportive. He was aware of my hate for chores before he said "I do." Sometimes I ask him if he knew I was crazy before he married me. His response was "Yeah, I knew you were crazy, but I had no idea how crazy."
Now that I have a bun in the oven I feel an overwhelming sense that I need to become Martha Stewart overnight or my marriage will be doomed and my daughter will become a juvenile, high school drop out with a drug problem. Yes, that's right, my world will end if I don't learn how to make homemade frosting. It's crazy, but that's how I feel and it makes sense to me. I can see my best friend Keara reading this now and laughing because she knows that, although it is completely irrational, I am dead serious.
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