(At the request of A.Thimons, This is a guest post by Camera Guy).
No one really ever asks me, ‘How do you do it?’ or “How are you feeling?” like I often hear my wife being asked. I think everyone thinks that Moms do all the work, that child rearing has no real effect on Dad. But really, you’ve got to cut me some slack. It has not been easy! It’s hard, exhausting work to remember to take the trash out every morning. How about the toll it takes on me to scramble around the house trying to find my last remaining tie, only to find them neatly put away in my closet. (I strew them sporadically around the house on purpose!) And do you know how hard it is to drive in peace and quiet twice a day? Being left with just my cup of coffee and a morning talk show? Not to mention the physical toll: I’ve had to put on weight (thanks, Pinterest) while my wife was pregnant and birthed our three children. My burden is having my extra weight not magically disappear after a short nine months! And when I’m not eating the bacon, I’m bringing it home – quite figuratively. Waking up exhausted after only seven or eight uninterrupted hours of sleep, sitting at work all day in a clean, quiet office having my eyes dry out while starring at a computer screen and having to eat fast food three out of every five days takes its toll on a healthy man. Granted I have had the ability to purchase a gym membership like I did last year for only $99! I feel great knowing that I spent $33 each of the three times that I went, and then there were the $109 running shoes which were used for two straight weeks in January before my son had to be born. Sometimes we guys just can’t get a break! I know you ladies who read my wife’s wonderful blog are probably thinking, “What kind of nerve does this guy have?!” Let me just be clear: I love my wife and family more than anything in this world, but haven’t I earned the right to be tired sometimes? In my wife’s words, “no.” Men, be forewarned, the minute you get your wife pregnant you relinquish all rights to being tired.
I get it – she’s tired. After nursing the baby for half the night, putting our 3-going-on-13 year old back to bed for the thousandth time after wanting another drink of water (because going to bed is akin to traveling through the Sahara apparently) and listening to me snore and grind my teeth I’m sure it would wear on anyone. But I complain that I’m tired a few mornings each week and it’s like you think I just announced “I gambled our life savings away…” – “WHAT THE ^*&#%!!?!? YOU’VE GOT SOME NERVE!!” Let’s just be clear by making an analogy. My capacity to being completely tired is equal to a thimble being full of water. My wife’s capacity to being tired on the other hand is equal to the pacific ocean. Both are full of water, they just are slightly different sizes – that’s all!
Now that you’ve stopped throwing daggers in your head at me and pitying my wife… please, allow me to continue (I find it soothing digging my own grave). So apparently my wife was so tired one day that she ended up tossing a disposable diaper in the… (no, it wasn’t the trash)… washing machine. And unfortunately, that washing machine was turned on. Upon opening the monster we discovered tiny balls of joy! Which were actually tiny balls of a gelatin matter (maybe only a billion) scattered all about the machine and the clothes. If you look on the bright side… the diaper was now clean. But anyway, me being my usual sacrificing self I offered to clean and shake out all of the clothes while my wife nursed. So maybe she was more tired than me that day… or maybe I’m just a great guy.
So to all of you ladies who read this blog and think, “Ah! This is so refreshing to read! She makes me feel normal!”… Please turn off your computer, and get some stuff done already… God knows your husband will be home soon and he’ll need to eat… and the last thing you want is him to have to sacrifice even more for your family. And in honor of Father’s day, why don’t you give him a foot massage while you’re at it…he’s probably tired… and please try not to tell him how wonderful I am, he’ll get there… don’t worry.