Good Enough For Me

Powering through a sink full of dishes with the help of strong coffee and Johnny Cash on the ipod, my experience as a stay-home dad is one of plugging holes in a dam of a large reservoir of shit that needs to get done. And there's never enough time to do it all.

Thankfully, I have the support of a special lady that can somehow stand my dark, prickly guts for more than two seconds. I am also fortunate to have a little kiddo who is content enough keeping himself busy managing his fleet of cars and trucks, books, and puzzles--of which he is absolutely crazy about. And then there's the dog, who of course would much rather be running alongside me on a bike ride than being stuck inside with us all day, but is also happy enough curled up on whatever couch Camden isn't using to inventory his toys on.

Unfortunately, what I also have is a propensity for procrastination with a generous side-helping of laziness. Well perhaps it's not really laziness. It's more of a deep-seeded need to see how much goofing off I can get away with before the stacks of dishes and laundry reach the ceiling. Luckily, I have a fairly low tolerance for messiness so it's kind of constant internal struggle--laziness versus my need for order. I know, sounds fun being me right? Well, it has it's moments.

When I've knocked out a large load of dishes, or have had a few weeks of not running out of socks or underwear because I've kept up with the laundry, or not received a letter from the over-reactive HOA telling me it's time to cut my grass, I feel a huge sense of accomplishment. Hell it's more than that, it's like I'm conquering shit. I'm like Cortez and his Spanish buddies stepping on the necks of the Aztecs with in their metal armor with muskets and horses. The Aztecs in this analogy being the laundry of course.

Okay, maybe that's a little overboard, but staying in the black with the household responsibilities is a huge accomplishment for me. And if you are one of the people who's been my roommate or co-worker, you would know firsthand this news is somewhat noteworthy. Now things aren't spotless, but the baby and I aren't wearing burlap sacks over here, so score one for dad. A low bar you say? Well, then I haven't clearly explained my almost clinical aversion to manual labor. See, even my explanations don't work. But the dishes are done, the wife is fed before she leaves for work, and the baby's had his milk in a clean-ish glass. And that's good enough for me.