Christ! Why am I here? Oh yeah, I remember. This is the place I write down my curses, so I don't say them aloud in front of the lil' man. But now ... There is also a lil' girl to consider.
Shit. If only (yeah here's a cliche for ya) I had a nickel for every time I heard, "Man! I wish I could be a stay at home parent." Ok. To be honest, sometimes I hear, "Man! There is no way in hell, I'd want to do that." But fuck the honest and obviously more brilliant latter. This is about the former and their ridiculous notion that being a stay at home parent is all romance and shit.
I love my lil' man. I love my wifey. And holy shit do I love my lil' girl. But ... Fuck! Staying home to take care of ... to dedicate ever ounce of my being ... Gosh! I'm realizing that I don't even have the words to finish whatever the hell I'm trying to communicate. So let's just get to the romance.
This morning, I woke up to my wifey's beautiful voice. So gentle and kind. And incredibly easy to ignore when you just want sleep to continue. The next time I woke, the lil' man was on top of me screaming, "We made you fresh hot coffee!" Knowing that the lil' man is quite relentless, I simply rolled out of bed. Slurped down some coffee. Took a poop. Made the lil' man breakfast. And cooed at the lil' girl while I made the wifey lunch to go.
Now, I only see the back of the wifey's head as she walks out through the door to her fancy dream job, so I can't be certain. But I'm pretty sure she's grinning. I dunno. Maybe she's just inhaling a breath of fresh air. Anyhow ... Back to the kitchen where I just melted some fucking Al-Clad to the God damned stove. How, you ask?
Well. The lil' girl isn't yet five months old, but good lord! Does she have an appetite. She slurps down 8 ounces of breast milk like ... like ... A hipster funnels a PBR tall boy. She's been chowing down bowls of rice cereal for over a month. So this morning I thought I'd make some baby food, maybe that'll keep Betty White from chewing a hole in another one of my wool sweaters. Seems simple enough. I mean, it doesn't take a fucking genious to steam vegetables to make baby food. Damn! Making baby food for your own kids. Doesn't that sound romantic? The thing is ...
I haven't slept in 46 days. I've had a sinus infection for two weeks (FYI you're always sick. And no! There are not any fucking sick days). The lil' man is running around screaming at me, who the fuck knows why. I'm cooing at the lil' girl so she doesn't start screaming at me too. JI'm trying to eat a piece of toast so I don't starve to death or faint because of this darn vertigo I've been experiencing for the past six months because of a stupid impacted eardrum that I haven't had time to get irrigated. Breathe.
Yeah. So the water eventually boiled down and the pot caught on fire.
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