Daddy Dedication

People always ask the wife how I am dealing with the pregnancy. This seems like a pretty warm sentiment, until you realize that they are really just asking how much support I am providing for her, which is totally fine by me. I don't handle praise or recognition well for some reason and am much happier to just try and make the wife as comfortable and happy as possible at all times. Don't get me wrong, I'm completely and totally selfish, but I'm smart selfish.

I have been able to deduce, after nearly a half decade of marriage, that if the wife is not happy, then I will likely not be happy as well. I'm just taking what I learned from high school and college summer school classes and applying to my current situation. Sure, everyone thought I was a selfless hard worker just trying to be proactive during the dog days of summer, but in reality I was just trying to do a little extra work duing a shortened semester so I could shift into cruise control the rest of the year and not have to stress myself. Same principle, only now my reward is watching Sportscenter in peace instead of doing crossword puzzles during Psychology courses.

This all brings me to the past couple weeks of exceptional "work" that I have put in in order to keep the wife from realizing that the back spasms and bouts of lethargy she is experiencing are all my fault. Over the past fortnight I have not only had to dedicate two sepearate Saturday mornings to the cinematic epics known and New Moon (offensively bad) and The Blind Side (actually good), but I also went so far as to swallow my pride, poop it out and smash it into a million pieces with a jack hammer.

I know exactly what you are thinking, how could a man do anything more sad and pathetic than watching vampires and werewolves in an epic battle against teenage sexual temptation? Well, I took one for the team (wordplay!) and intentionally lost my fantasy football matchup with the wife. Sat my defense at the 11th hour and made sure the wife got into the playoffs. Unless you know the competive spirit that coarses through the wife's side of the family, then you will have no idea how necessary of an action this was in order to ensure a happy house. Sure I could have won, but I would not have enjoyed one second of it and even if she didn't castrate me in my sleep she would have been bummed out all week long. I assume that 7 full days of bummed pregnant woman would only have catastrophic consequences for the boy, something awful like a lisp or a lazy eye. Which obviously would have led him down a long deviant life path, ultimately dumping him headlong into a career as a bathroom attendant.



So that's it. I tanked on purpose, everyone knew it, but nobody argued. Everyone knew it was best for the boy. And for me, considering I was able to eat my pumpkin pie and whip topping in totally peace last Sunday night. Summer school...