Why? Why? Why? (Banging head on wall...)

DEADLINES:
Work is currently completed.
If it wasn't Easter weekend and I wasn't cleaning and running last minute errands like a mad woman, I'd be celebrating by not depressing myself trying on pre-preg nice clothes to wear to church on Sunday and just buy something new in a bigger size and cut off the tag so I could pretend it was my pre-preg size.
That would make me feel better.
*Sigh*
But back to the deadlines.

*I currently have a pretty cool contest running on The Ruff Ruff Review. If you've got a dog and like free things, this one's for you.
*I'll have more Baby Gooroo posts as of Sunday night after the flock leaves and the baby passes out for the night.
*And I just received my Ergo Baby Carrier for review in the Metro Parent monthly Five Fabulous Finds column, which reminds me that I need to get crackin' on April's column.
A few teasers for upcoming feature items include the Baby K'tan Carrier (pictured), Bumblebags Diaper Bags, and a ton of children's CD's by artists I have never heard of yet because my baby is still thankfully young enough to spare me from children's music overload.


DIAPERS:
So why the oh-so dramatic post title?
We are having like 30 people over on Sunday (sucks being ethnic sometimes), and the house, as I have previously mentioned, looked like a flea market on a busy Sunday morning. There is crap no one ever uses EVERYWHERE.
Most of which was, is, or shall be the property of Lil' Miss Buttercup.
So I have errands to do today (like buy the ham and shop for other Sunday necessities), only to come home to Mr. L. giving his acceptance speech at the self-proclaimed World's Best Husband Award Event. (Attendance: 1)
Turns out he did most of the cleaning in the basement today (our second living room) and was more than happy to point it out. He's telling the truth. But why?
Maybe he wanted a cookie?
But seriously, who cares? I mean, I love him and am grateful he is taking the time to help me get the house ready for another too-big Mirish (not a typo) family fiesta, but I don't recall pointing out each time I do something that needs to be done (Mommy, Mommy! I used the potty again all by myself!) like cleaning the kitchen or doing the grocery shopping or simultaneously working on a story while keeping the baby occupied while dinner cooks on the stove after living on four to five hours of sleep (on a good night) for the past nine months.
I just do it.
Again-I love him to pieces, but isn't this like a defect in the male genetic code or something? I have witnessed it plenty of times. My father-in-law. My dad. The neighbor across the street.
The need for a "Yay for you, baby!" pat on the head for a domestic deed well done and the total state of oblivion that as moms who have to do it all every day, we just aren't that impressed anymore?
As for the head banging reference in the title...I almost got to that point while I tried to explain to him why I wasn't bowing down at his feet for the basement cleaning job (rookie mistake, I know that now.) Thankfully, I quickly came to my senses, thanked him, and joined in on the cleaning frenzy, wondering if same sex couples go through this Men-Mars/Women-Venus crap.
My theory is no, and that makes me insanely jealous.