Me: What are the hours?
God: Um, not sure.
Me: Like, how many hours a week?
God: Well, hmm, I can't say. Anywhere between 112 and close to 168.
Me: Wait, I have to work nights and weekends?
God: Yeah. In fact, you have to potentially work more on weekends then on weekdays.
Me: What's the salary?
God: (laughs, coughs, clears throat) No salary. It's actually going to cost you a boatload of money.
Me: Well how many sick days do I get?
God: None.
Me: None? What do I do when I'm sick?
God: Mostly likely take care of everyone else in your house because they will also be sick. And you can get puked on and sneezed on and coughed on, make meals and do laundry and take care of the pets and pay the bills and, you pickin up what I'm puttin down here?
Me: Is there a pension?
God: That depends on how smart and financially savvy and lucky your kids are, how much they like and respect you when they're adults, what kinds of ailments you have, how annoying you get, etc. Truthfully there's a good chance you'll be chin-deep in debt for the rest of your life, with at least two mortgages.
Me: When do I get to retire?
God: Never. Well, technically, when you die. Otherwise you're on call 24/7 for the rest of your life.
So, I ask you, who in their right mind would willingly take this on? And not only that, who would take it more then once?! Especially after you realize there ISN'T a nursery down the hall where you can send the kid when you're sick or exhausted or in need of a ten minute nap. Or after you realize it will literally be YEARS before you have the independence to walk out of your own house barefoot, hop in your car and go wherever you want for as long as you want. But here's the absolutely weird thing. Somehow, by some astounding, enigmatic biological widget God skillfully implanted in a hidden crevice in your brain, this whole unbelievably bizarre phenomena is AMAZING and totally, incomprehensibly AWESOME and even knowing many of the pitfalls and idiosyncrasies, I totally dig this parenthood thing. I can absolutely see how it's not for everyone, but personally I'm in. When Brendan asks, "Is this a booboo?" in the cutest, sweetest baby voice, pointing to a little scrape on his hand, a concerned, innocent look on his adorable fat face that I just want to eat, I could seriously see having 10 kids. On the other hand, it's 10:29pm and Liam's singing Weezer songs upstairs and asking Eric to come up and clip his nails, so I don't think I'll go that far. And have I mentioned how I have had MAYBE 4 full 8 hour nights of sleep in the last year and a half? That's not something I could keep up for the next decade, so...
Brendan face-planted off the neighbor's slide and the mud on his face was too funny-looking to clean off:
8 comments:
update: it's 11pm and Liam is still not sleeping. Nw he is calling, "Eric! Eric! Errric!" Really, two kids is a lot of kids. :o)
My lord, they are so adorable. Do I recognize your bouquet in Liam's hands?
I've decided that you need to have a bbq this summer. ;-0
Rae! It is the bouquet from your wedding!! Isn't it beautiful?!! I have to hear all about the honeymoon. Yes, a BBQ is definitely a great idea!
Honeymoon was great. I'll send you an email. :-)
I totally thought this was going to finish with you telling us you're having number three. I'm glad it didn't because if you do choose to have number three, I need you to wait for our number two!
anyway. WELL-PUT. how can anything this brutally difficult be this incredibly awesome?
Wait for your 2 and 3 till I have my 1 so she'll have someone to play with. ;-)
Hmmm, any surprise announcements from the honeymoon perhaps? :o)
I said Wait.
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