I have left my wife twice now. Once to take Butde to the airport, the second to rake leaves. Both times I returned to find my sweet Elise holding our two girls with a look on her face that said, "How is this gonna work?"
This was different than the homecoming I had envisioned - where I walked into songs and clapping and smiles and a deeble team cheer that went something like this:
Oh Dad, you're home soooo soon
We nearly forgot you were gone
B/c things here are orderly
They are fun, tidy, and calm
Elise and I are a bit worried about how it will go when I return to work. So it was late one night, after the girls had been put down, that my wife rubbed the back of my neck ever so softly and whispered, "Maybe you could become a professional blogger."
You know - in hindsight - I found her to be unusually complimentary of my work. Turns out now that it was all a subtle ploy to keep me here. In this house. Forever. Where I push pillows around all day long to cushion little falls. Where I live for American Idol at night. Where I might even watch the Pro Bowl.
Elise just figured that I could sign up a few sponsors, throw up a daily post or two during naptime, and then help her referree the rest of the time. I'm flatterred and all, but no thanks. This "stay-at-home-thing" is far too demanding a gig. It requires an evolved power that I don't yet possess. It calls for an intelligence that borders on clairvoyance. It bids the selfish to come and die.
No. I'd much prefer to pastor a church, thank you.
Besides, I worry about material. I mean, we're just your average family with 2 girls only 4 months apart, both under the age of one. We're not dealing with newsworthy stuff here - other than the usual challenges of parenting two very different children. One child, for example, was born for the California sun and the other will wear Coppertone like Desitin for the rest of her life. They have started to squabble like sisters do - generally b/c one thinks she IS the party and the other is afraid the party will end every time she closes her eyes.