Dear Marion Faye,
I am a stay at home mom of two darling young children. I am certainly grateful to my husband for allowing me this privilege. That being said, there are times when he gets home that i am just about ready to chew my own arm off to get out of the house. I don’t think he realizes how much work goes into taking care of these little people. How can I politely ask him for a break? I know he works hard too but I don’t get coffee breaks or a lunch hour at my job.
Sincerely, Stuck At Home Mom
Oh, you precious thing, you are doing the most important work of all: hand-raising those angels. I-like so many women-didn’t have the privilege of staying at home, what with all the movie roles and tv appearances. Looking back, it seems like the phone was ringing constantly. One day it was Hollywood Squares, the next it would be the producer of a show about a cruise ship or an island where miracles happen. All that to say: I felt like I was never there while another woman-who’s name I can’t recall and who eventually fled for the border with all my good silver-raised my babies for me. It is my biggest regret in life.
Well, that and turning down the Barbra Stanwick role in Big Valley. What was I thinking?
Butterbean, I am extremely sympathetic to your plight so I’m going to give you two peices of advice here!
First, you need to claim the “Honey Pot Law.”
“What’s a Honey Pot?” you might ask. Sweetness, poets and statesmen like to say that it’s “the face that launched a thousand ships” or “the way to a Man’s heart is through his stomach.” But you and I both know what men truly want and you’re sitting right on top of it!
The Honey Pot is a powerful thing, and if you cut off access to it, that man will do anything you want and need! I’d wager that, within the first week, he’ll buckle like balsa wood and hire a manny–at the very least! You’re welcome!
Second, find another man. Yes, you heard me, get yourself a good gay-homosexual man. Believe me, you will never know how good it feels to be loved and adored by a gay-homosexual. Many a lonely evening was made brighter by my good friend Paul Lynde-God rest his dandy soul. You may remember him as Tabatha’s uncle in Bewitched.
Anyway, Precious, when he told me he was a gay-homosexual I was floored! Everyone was! Who could’ve known that beneath debonair facade and masculine demeanor lurked the passionate and creative heart of a gay-homosexual?
Our friendship flourished and I immediately had no need for any of my bitchy girlfriends in the industry. In fact, we had pet names for each other. I was his “Winifred” and he my “Judy.” Together, we ripped up more red carpet and went through more martinis than an Oscars after-party. Those were the days!
So, Butterbean, before he comes home after a long day, do up your hair, put your face on and slip into that little number that makes you feel the most fetching. After dinner, when he gives you the bedroom eyes, you simply say “I have a headache, Darling.” Then, you continue to have a headache. It’s that simple. He’ll come around without you even mentioning the ace up your sleeve.
Once again, you’re welcome!
Marion Faye Humphreys