Mr. Mom
Hello, moms out there. I could have used your help this week. Cinderella's out there in funeral-land, dealing with the ghastly details. I'm here manning the fort (manfully). Three kids, two dogs (one of them a crap-factory puppy--she's a Puggle, if you're keeping score), a cat and a parrot. Hauling out of bed at 6:00 to oversee the various preparations, breakfasts, lunch-makings, snits, complaints, cartoons, dog walks, animal feedings, fashion panics. But now Eric is a big mon and drives Megan and her pal Elizabeth to school. He steals my car every morning. Then, when they're gone, I go get Chayo up. Fortunately, Rudy the rat terrier, now that the psychotic Puggle is here, has become some kind of Lassie dog. All noble and mature. So I say, "Let's wake up Chayo," and he runs upstairs and gets in her bed and starts licking her face, thuse getting my job started for me. And here we go again--breakfasts and dressing and get the backpack and the lunch pail and lately the umbrella and walk to the school bus stop where all the moms gather and think, What the hell is he doing here? How do you do it? I quietly crawl back in bed at 7:50 and pull the pillows over my head. Those of you who have known me for long know that I used to crawl into bed around 7:50 a.m., so it's almost like my past...Not. But then we had the unexpected strike: the school nurse called with the news that Chayo is shivering and nauseous. I leap into the World's Biggest Van to drive to her school and realize I'm not sure where her school is! But I find it! I scoop her up and get her home when suddenly she spikes a massive fever and starts barfing. I can't get Cinderella on the cell phone because she's in the funeral home. The puppy craps on the carpet and I step in it. Chayo barfs. I'm running around with a bucket. Fever goes to 103. I think the kid's dying. Dog craps on the kitchen floor--and I step in it again! Suddenly, Mrs. Hreska, from across the street, calls me to tell me she's bringing us supper tonight. Can you believe that? That good ol' midwestern thing. I tell her what's happening and she coaches me through. She's right on every count. Then Kim from down the street shows up with Gatorade and Seven Up. The Moms save me and my child. And feed us. Yes, chicks dig me. All this time I'm trying to contact my students via email because I'm missing classes due to the chaos. And I'm working on a new TV series outline with my friend NineDragon over the internet. And I'm trying to get ready because today I have to fly to SF to meet the mayor. Those neighbor ladies will ride to my rescue again and take the girls. I don't know if I'm coming or going, and wifey and I call each other late at night not liking the recent turn of events one bit. But I go west to a fancy hotel and will eat breakfast with the mayor and tour some schools with him and start the SF all-city-read of Hummingbird's Daughter with an exhausted bang then rush home tomorrow night to make sure the kids are all right, and we'll get up early Thursday and everyone will head off for school again. So, you know, I love you, but don't call me until noon. I'll have a pillow over my head. --The Daddinator

Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Subscribe to Posts [Atom]