It cleans the house and does the laundry. It does this whenever it's told.

Ah...Sunday. The Day of Rest. The one day of the week where patronizing Chik-Fil-A is not an option.
Also the second day I can get anything done around the house. There's sweeping, laundry, the remodeling (currently finishing the master bedroom), yard-work, trash....all valid tasks.


Many of which could have been accomplished during the week. By my 'stay-at-home' spouse.


I know, I know. I'm complaining. But...it's my blog. Go read James Patterson if you need some fluff.


I run Marine games by day, and a contracting job by night, so I pretty much live for the weekends. I've heard more than once that I'm crazy, but frankly, we need the money. Day care ain't cheap.


Oh, yeah. Day Care. The oldest is in school all day, and the younger is in day care all day. I have a 'stay-at-home' spouse, so why on earth do I have the younger in care? Because, sad as it sounds, the Day Care provides a better environment. I have come home to food caked on the floor, dirty diapers scattered throughout the house, and toys clogging the toilet. Where is my intrepid spouse in all of this? Hard at work....


...on Cafe World. Curse you, Zynga.


Prior to marriage, we dated extensively (3 years), and were engaged for 8 months. I was clear: 'I don't care if you stay home or not. If you want a job, a career, I'm all for it. BUT, if you do decide to stay home, I would want the house & kids looked after.' Bottom line: Everybody works in a family. Nobody rides for free. If you aren't contributing financially, it should be by other means. So if anyone is looking for a theme-of-the-day, there you have it.


I'm certainly not the chauvinistic bastard who thinks a woman's place is in the kitchen. Role reversal doesn't bother me in the least; I'd be just as content to be the home-maker if she was bringing home the bacon. Heck, I do both jobs as it stand now!
But I do believe that our children watch their parents closely, especially early in life. Our example is what they see, and our lifestyle is what they learn. What do I teach my oldest when I want him to clean his room, and our room is trashed, smelling like dirty diapers? I know I haven't had time to clean it yet, but all he sees is that Daddy is full of BS. Not the best impression. I want my kids to grow up in an environment that sets the right example for them, and where they understand why that example is to be emulated (not 'because I told you so').


I'm at a loss as to what to do. I can't approach her about it. The ensuing emotional volcanic eruption usually ruins the remainder of the day for everybody, and even less is accomplished than before. Unfortunately, there are only twenty-four hours in a day, and I just can't get it all done. So far the worst that has happened is we end up living out of laundry baskets, because sanitation, safety and general order are more important to me than nicely-folded Iron-Man undies. Nobody has gotten severely ill, ingested something they shouldn't, or ran out of clean clothes to wear to school. No meals have been missed (that I know of), although many have been tossed because I wasn't there to put them in the fridge.


For now, I'll keep buckling down and pushing. Someone has to clean, has to wash, and has to mind the bills, and if I don't, it just doesn't happen. I try not to think about what happens here during the 12+ hours per day I'm working. Perhaps I am crazy, but I cannot fathom how 12 hours can pass with nothing being accomplished. Especially with no kids to mind. Sheer boredom would have me cleaning, building, cooking, moving...something. Maybe it's the ADHD?


The original projected date of completion for the master bedroom was three months ago. This is what happens when I spend my weekends catching up on housework instead of working on the house.


That wouldn't bother me so much, except that it's a major complaint. Apparently, I work too slowly.




Jas






</complain>

Thanksgiving the First

I've never blogged before.




Should anyone actually read this, it'll be painfully evident within a few seconds that I'm a complete novice. Frankly, I'm not too convinced that I'll have time to keep up with it. I can't figure what is making me start a blog, except for the desperate personal need to get my thoughts on "paper". The act of typing it out is a form of meditation and relief, and who knows? I might even get some meaningful feedback. A diary would require I hand in my Man Card, and hey, it's the Twenty-First Century.


Why Blogger? Probably because I can come back later, read my own blathering and laugh a bit. Because it offers a forum that's anonymous. The fact that my handwriting looks like that of an angry third-grader with palsy may have a bit to do with it as well ;) 
Eh...honesty compels me to admit that holding a pencil requires concentration and not a small bit of pain. Old injury, that.


So on the hubris-laden assumption that someone may actually read this, here's me:


Firstly, vis-a-vis the title, I am a Father. Not a dad, a sperm donor, or a child-support check writer. A Father.
I care deeply for my children. They are my entire world, my reason for being who and what I am, and I know I've only got one chance to do right by them. All the same, I am not a 'buddy' or a 'pal' parent. Like it or not, I'm the authority in their life, the one who has to teach them right from wrong, social cues, mores and morals, how to use the potty, and why the world is poorer for Leslie Nielsen's passing. 
I'm also a husband.
A US Marine.
A Tim Taylor-esque DIY nut, who purchased a foreclosure with dreams of grandeur.
And finally, a closet gun nut. No, not the kind that pistol-whips a fellow Wal-Mart shopper over the last jar of pickled pig's feet. The kind that likes putting lead on paper at increasing distances, testing my skills, and exercising my 2nd Amendment Rights to protect my family.


Why am I bothering with this? As I said, I need to organize my thoughts, and the great thing about Blogger is anonymity. I get all the benefits of a journal without the heinous writer's cramp. I get the opportunity to see if I really am crazy, or if there are a couple of like-minded folk out there after all. 


Mostly though, I just get to vent.


If anything I say offends someone, it's a damned big Internet. Piss off.
If anything I say actually means something to someone, I'd be fine if you wanted to tell me.