Friday, May 27, 2005
I'm typing this blogpost one-handed. Not for the usual exciting reasons either, it's because my other hand is being used to prop up the lolling, sweating, whimpering head of my disease-afflicted youngest child who is sitting on my lap. He hasn't actually puked yet, but so far he's been 101° of fun. If I'm lucky his asthma will kick in and we'll have a full-fledged medical respiratory crisis by this afternoon. Fingers crossed.
Of course this means my plans with Mrs. Pops for the evening are in peril. My sister is supposed to watch the kids so we can go out and see Star Wars and get something to eat off of a menu with no cartoon animals on it of any kind.
The sister is a paramedic, so I plan on calling her up later and offering her informed consent, which is where I warn her I have a sick kid, but guilt her into watching them all anyway. She also likes it when we give her a chance to start an IV on someone, so I think she'll still be amenable.
Trying to go out with your wife when you have kids is not unlike making the decision to have kids in the first place or buy a house or something else major like that. If you sit around waiting for absolutely ideal conditions, it will never, ever happen. You simply have to make the conscious decision to set personal guilt, anxiety, friendship, remorse and basic parental responsibility aside to make it happen. I will use every weapon at my disposal to bring this chain of events, already set in motion, to their natural, logical fulfillment: me outside the house with my wife and no kids. I've got the tunnel vision firmly in place. God help all those who oppose me.
And now, as a concession to the shortness and lack of thematic grandeur (as you've all come to love and to expect) of this post, I offer you a link to a story about boner pills making old people go blind. Turns out the nuns were right all along.
This post on the Narcissus Scale: 9.7