Journal of a Stay-at-Home Husband

I thought it was about time I posted something, I mean, it is my prerogative as being a new Stay-at-Home Husband.  Its been three weeks since I quit my job.  I still feel great about the decision to focus all of my time at being the best student I can be.  And my grades will concur.  Just ask the new shiny 'A' I'll be getting in my Statistics class!  (I've never been one to get that kind of scoring in a math class). (I just reread that line and laughed.)

Anyway, now-a-days I spend my time doing my homework assignments from my tiny laptop on the kitchen table. Taking breaks now and then to fold laundry, clean dirty dishes, blast rock and roll when no one is around, and make the bed.  I've got it down to a science, the lady upstairs always leaves before anyone else, then like clockwork the people next door leave, and viola!  I'm alone ready to scrub dishes along with U2, Tears for Fears, Talking Heads and Coldplay!  (I know I know, your all shaking your heads at the shear AWESOMENESS of it all.)

On the flips side, being a Stay-at-Home Husband does have its awkward moments.  Like the other day, out and about walking around doing some errands, I run into a regular from my former job. I know already know how the conversation will go in my head:

Former regular giving me the once over: "Hey!  I haven't seen you in a while, do you work here now?"
Me: Actually I don't, I decided to go full time with my schooling.
Former Regular waiting to be impressed: Sounds like a good thing.
 Me going in for the impressive strike: Yes sir, I'll graduate early and build up my application for Graduate school.
Former Regular: More power to you!  That's pretty impressive and completely worth your time and effort, you should get a gold star.
Me: Well that's what I'm going for.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENS:

Former regular giving me the once over: "Hey, I haven't seen you for a while, do you work here now?"
Me: "Nope, I actually quit."
Former regular, waiting for impressive remark: Really?  Where do you work now?
Me: I don't. . . .I'm being a student full time now.
Former regular clearly not impressed: That's. . .good.  Do you have another job lined up?
Me realizing I didn't do my hair or shave today, probably look a little homeless: "Nope. Just school."
Former regular, giving me one of those "what are you nuts?" look.

A w k w a r d  .  .  .  S i l e n c e

Former regular looking for avenue escape: We'll that's good you are able to do that.
Me, waiting for a bus to fall from the sky: Yeah, it is!  We'll I've got to run.
Former regular: It was good to see you again.
Me: You too.

Besides those awkward moments I really do enjoy being a full time student, and Stay-At-Home Husband. I love being able to focus all my time and energy on my schooling and really be passionate about what I'm learning.  Its worth the sacrifice to my ego. I also appreciate my wife so much more than I did before.  While she works tirelessly at her job, balancing six year olds, going to school herself and providing for the two of us, I am in awe at all she can do. And I'm building appreciation for when she gets to leave her job and become a full time mother.  I'll know a fraction of what she will be going through and that much more eager to help.

Quite a Day

Its already the start of another semester. I can't believe it. At least my summer went out, with a bang. . . . almost.

I was standing at the front desk of my work, just this past Saturday, contemplating how much I didn't want to be productive, when an altogether mind baffling, almost heart stopping scene played out before me.

There was Farmer Joe, wife-beater shirt, red bandanna, jeans and beat up tractor riding past straight from 1956. In his lap was an old red gas can, pretty as can be. My mouth was already open in a half smile, when all of the sudden, he whipped out a thin white cigarette. Plunking it between his lips he fumbled around with a silver lighter, its metal flashing in the sun, letting me know it really was there.

My mouth hit the counter as I saw Farmer Joe wrestle with the lighter, his gas can (full by the way) and steering wheel. He ducked his head once, the lighter, his head and the lid to the gas can closer than the ever should have been. Twice he tried this, but failed to light. (Himself and his cigarette)

Finally he got enough gray cells together to stop the tractor, take his hands from the wheel and successfully light his cigarette. Of course over the spout of the can.

Thoughts started to flash through my head: I told my wife I love her right? Did I leave the car unlocked? I wonder how big the boom will be. These HUGE glass windows aren't shatter proof are they. I've never seen anybody blow up before, I guess there's a first time for everything.

But alas, no blinding flash came, no deafening boom or shattering of glass into my face. Farmer Joe puffed contentedly on his cig and calmly pulled the clutch out on his tractor. It sputtered forward and out of our sight.

Today I heard a man died while fishing, they said at least he died doing something he loved. Funny how life can play out, right?

SOMETIMES ALL THE TIME

Sometimes.

Sometimes I feel like I need to be noticed by everyone
Sometimes I feel like Jim Carey
Sometimes I look like Tim Curry. . .
Sometimes . . . I like to miss my bus.
Sometimes I feel like a fly on the wall, listening to things I don't want to hear.
Sometimes. . .
Sometimes I am a fool. . . Okay a lot more than sometimes.
Sometimes I want to build a rocket.
Sometimes I just want to be silent.
Sometimes I feel like the most insignificant speck of nothing.
Sometimes I want to flip my boogers on tailgater's windshields.
Sometimes I feel dark.
Sometimes I just want to be alone.
Sometimes I love rap.
Sometimes I want to shrivel up and die.
Sometimes I trip on flat surfaces.
Sometimes I get the point across
Sometimes I laugh and cry.
Sometimes. . . I stub my toe.
Somteimes I misspell everything.
Sometimes I get angry.
Sometimes I taste happy.
Sometimes I don't act.
Sometimes I look both ways.
Sometimes I get stung by a bee.
Sometimes I feel trapped.
Sometimes I just need a good friend.
Sometimes I wish I could fly.
sometimes bad things happen.
Sometimes I'm caught off guard.
Sometimes I don't sometimes.
All the time I am who I am.

On the hunt for a Ginko Tree

Today I had a face off with a mourning dove.

I was peacefully meditating on the world around me, and the secrets to life, in the courtyard of the engineering building when there was a fluttering of wings and my nemesis MOURNING DOVE flew onto a near by railing.

He looked at me first with one eye, then with the other. I stared back, my concentration focusing like the gamma-rays from the sun. MORNING DOVE continued to switch gazes from one soulless black pit to the other. Then he stopped, his head cocked to one side, the emptiness of his eye opened wide, nothing but not breaking our eye contact mattered. I vowed upon the souls of all the dead squirrels buried on campus that I would not look away.

We looked on.

A single drop of perspiration trickled down my temple, a feather quivered at the tip of his tail.

I knew I had him.

He was beginning to quake slightly, I knew that my razor sharp sight would soon cut him into a raging inferno. (Yes I know that doesn't make sense, but its what was said on the fine-printing of my contact-lens box.)
Alas it would not be so.

At the last moment, the first of the early morning engineering students appeared on the scene, innocently calculating the equations that would one day save the world from an invasion of bridge fearing Theropods.

MOURNING DOVE knew too much was at stake, and a split second before he, the student and half the building would have been blown away, he turned tail and headed for the trees.

Until we meet again, MOURNING DOVE, watch your tail feathers, cause I'm watching mine.



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Big Sisters

Thoughts on a little big sister.

I remember when you would make me play barbies with you.
I would be the dog(a sheep dog with real hair)and I would loyally fallow you and Barbie through dinner, parties, Ken dates, and even being left alone in the huge "Barbie mansion" waiting by the door till you came home.

Then you would say that the dog died. Barbie would mourn and I would sit back and watch you till you were done, as "advised" by you.

Singing Phantom of the Opera at the tops of our lungs. Jumping on the tramp, Rob bouncing us till we were speechless and screaming without sound.

Watching you recover from a car accident involving our red 94 Toyota Corolla, and a 30 point buck. I never knew that singing opera could be so therapeutic.
Oh dear chicken-bones.
Muldoon
Strawberry........you know.
Seester

I remember the day you were engaged. Well it was more like night. You came and jumped on me screaming you were going to get married. I bawled like a baby at your wedding.

When you listened to Vivia La Vida and cried your eyes out missing me.
Reading the experiences of your life, wishing I could hear you laugh.

Getting phone calls about crazy old women with no teeth and crazy hair, talking to themselves.

Laughing so hard you almost pee your pants.

Re-hashing pretty much every movie we've seen in our life times.

My little big sister.

I love you.