I Flew Into a Rage, and Boy, Are My Arms Tired

There was a brief discussion in the comments about the prospects of me staying home and spending more time on my web entries, and it’s funny, because in fact, I was home all day yesterday. Alex and her sister had gone to Seattle for the weekend, leaving me alone with the children.

Two. Small. Children.

Okay, just to warn you, yes, this post will shortly devolve into the stereotypical ‘Dad- sees- what- it’s -like -to -stay -at -home -with -two -borderline -insane -children -and -after -barely -surviving -realizes -how -hard -his -wife –works -and -at -the -same -time -comes -to –love- them -all-and -the –world- even -more -the –end.’

However, before we get to that point, I should also warn you that when Alex got home, I yelled at her uterus.

Incidentally, getting into a fight with a uterus is a classic example of the effectiveness of silence in an argument. Because the more I yelled, the more stoic Alex’s uterus became. At one point, her stomach growled, but otherwise I was left with the silence of my own hollow reasoning.

“I DIDN’T EAT ANYTHING THE ENTIRE DAY! AND I STILL GAINED 3 POUNDS!” I screamed.

The uterus said nothing. The uterus knows this.

What’s worse is that Alex never even rubbed in a little ‘I told you so’ salt, which would have helped me focus my anger onto her, allowing me to escape this pointless debate with her very crafty reproductive organs. No. She just rolled her eyes and left to try on all the new clothes she bought.

I guess what I’m saying is that there would be no blog were I to stay at home. Just a big smug uterus kicking me in the fetal position.

Love, Dad