My Babies' Daddy

I haven't talked much about my husband lately. But that's because I haven't seen much of him lately.

My poor husband. Seriously, you should pity him. He is working so hard. He has two jobs, ever since I went on maternity leave. He works 5-6 days a week. In one week he may work 90 hours. He's never home. He comes home, eats, and falls asleep.

He fell asleep last night halfway through The Office. That says more than I could ever explain - this guy loves The Office. Obsessively.

His life is hard right now and he has a few things he loves, which I've taken over - the new couch. The big tv. The fancy laptop. They were his. Now my big butt sits on the couch all day watching the tv and using the laptop.

Want to know what I did today??? I crashed the laptop. I don't know what happened. I was playing Boggle when the screen went black. All these words came up, stuff went flying by, for a long time... when all was said and done, it wouldn't start. At all. Nada. Nothing.

I cried. I told the cat, Daddy is going to kill me. Remember me fondly. LOL

So - obviously, he didn't kill me. He had to reload Windows and thereby lose pretty much everything on here - his thousands of downloaded songs in particular. He was pretty mad for about 1/2 an hour, well not mad so much, as beaten down I think. It was the icing on the cake.

No, then for dinner I fed him Hamburger Helper. That was really the icing on the cake.

There is something worse than carrying triplets... being married to the mess carrying triplets. Trust me.

Before the triplets were even embryos you are subjected to some pretty humiliating things involving a urologist, your manhood, your swimmers, some bad porn and a bunch of specimen cups....

Then you become the father to be of triplets.

You have to work two jobs, you get no sex, no home cooking, no clean house to come home to.

You're lucky if your wife is clean and dressed and out of bed - speaking of which, some days you have to help her out of bed. She keeps you up all night getting up to pee and moaning and trying to roll over.

She looks like a Weeble and can only wear stretch pants. She thinks it'll make you happy if she shows you how her new nursing bra has a little flap you can pull down and expose her giant, brown, bumpy nipple (it doesn't make you happy at all).

She burps a lot and puts a huge jug of pee in your fridge that you for one terrible second think is a fancy new juice.

She has all these weird things happening to her body which she insists on not only telling you about, but making you look at.

She talks to the cat constantly because she's losing her mind. Her family, especially her mother, are ALWAYS at your house. She makes you push her around in the giant cart made for old people at the Shop Rite.

I could seriously go on and on. I have a very very good husband. Thank you God. Every day I wonder how I got so lucky to have this family - this husband, this cat, and these babies... speaking of which....

Once again, these better be some great kids we're having to make up for all this suffering.... :)

(He wants to wear this shirt to the hospital when I have the babies.... I kind of nixed that idea. I didn't say he was PERFECT.)