I'm not trying to make myself out for you guys to think I'm SuperWoman. I'm far from it, but I do do a lot for B. Mostly it is because I love him and want him to be happy and the other is that I like things my way.
On the weekends, I wake up a little after B and immediately start breakfast. I cook it, serve it, and clean up after it. I then move to make the bed. Between that and my shower, I try to read, watch TV, whatever. After my shower, I start on lunch. Sometimes it is leftovers, sometimes it is something frozen, and sometimes it is something that I make. I then serve that meal and clean up after it. We usually will go out after that running errands and maybe grab a coffee or a movie or whatever. We come back home and I serve a drink and/or a snack. I then start on dinner from start to finish. During this entire time, B is either napping, reading, or on the computer. Without. Fail.
A couple of weeks ago, I coined myself as the Meal Maker. That is all that I feel like I do sometimes. This weekend was my birthday weekend. B is an absolute dream on my birthday. He does not allow me to lift a finger. He made me breakfast, made the bed, and cleaned the house...thoroughly. We went out to dinner and even put away the doggie bags. It was heaven. I'm not used to being pampered. At the start of the day, I was really anxious and uncomfortable being waited on. After a few hours, I got used to it. Why not? I deserve it!
Yesterday, I woke up after B. I got out of bed and brushed my teeth. I looked at him while he was reading and felt like Cinderella at midnight. It was no longer my birthday and I was now again the Meal Maker. I just sighed, tied my hair back, and started to make breakfast.