Posts Tagged 'poop'

The day after yesterday

This morning I caught the Today Show and quickly was reminded of two certainties. 1. Matt Lauer has the hairline of an elephant, and 2. Meredith Vieira ain’t no Katie Couric. Then again, in Meredith’s defense, the prospect of following a woman who shoved a hose up her ass and cleaned her colon on national television would be a daunting task for anyone, so I’ll cut her some slack. So there I was playing with my daughters on a quiet Tuesday morning when from the TV I hear Matt Lauer utter the words “Stay at home fathers”. Immediately I perk up with interest. Hey, that’s me! This is something I didn’t want to miss. I had to pay close attention, having to hear what they had to say about this ever-growing trend. I was actually excited to watch the Today show. It was a day of firsts and it wasn’t even 9 O’clock.

I have to admit that learning that I was part of a large group of stay at home dads in America was quite intriguing to me. Unfortunately my intrigue turned to slight disdain when the term “Trophy husband” was repeated over and over during course of the segment. Trophy husband? That’s not what I am… is it? Who are these idiots that call themselves “Reporters” anyways? As it turns out, the prospect of the stay-at-home dad is a rapidly growing demographic. I recently heard a statistic that in the United States, 33% of families with kids,  the wife tends to be the bread winner. Talk about roll reversal.

I’ve experienced it all since being the “primary caregiver”. I’ve had random women tell me how wonderful it is to see a father handle kids like I do. Or how sexy a man is who changes diapers without batting an eye. Sure that’s great and all, but as Louis C.K. put it ever so eloquently, if you had told me years ago that one day I would be wiping poop out of two tiny little vaginas I would have spit my beer up and laughed in your face and then drank more beer. I guess the joke’s on me.

But is it? I love being home with my girls. I would be the first to admit that I never in a million years thought being a parent would be this fun, but it really is. And any man who thinks this is “woman’s work” is no man in my books. This is hard fucking work. Let me say that again. This is hard fucking work. Remember that. I actually think it is more difficult than going to an office every day. There is no letting up and there are no real coffee or smoke breaks. Sure the pay is shit but the rewards are priceless. I know that soon enough more commercial jobs will come my way and we will have to finally go the way of a nanny or something along those lines, but in the mean time I’m elbows deep in washing bottles, preparing lunches and wiping bums.  I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. Now if you’ll excuse me my wife will be home from work soon and I should really go put that dress on she likes and get her a beer.

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Poop, there it is!

What the f#@% is that smell? I am sure these words have escaped the lips of more than just one parent. Today, they escaped mine and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last time either. Sure we have all experienced our little munchkins running around the house in their birthday suits, squeeling their little lungs out. It’s cute as hell, but note to self – keep the pants on before putting them down for a nap.

Long story short, one of my daughters proceeded to take off her diaper and shit all over the place. Her fussing stopped immediately as I poked my head in the door and crinkled my nose to the smell. She giggled and smiled. I didn’t.

So that’s it. I’m elbows deep in shit. How fun for me.


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