Hi guys. I’m at a conference.

It’s about sex.

Sex addiction, that is.

Anyway, it’s really, really, really intense and long and it’s been going on for days and I still have days to go and I’m paying a jack-load (is that even a phrase?) of money for this thing so I’m doing the noble thing and trying really, really hard to pay attention.

It’s hard, people. But I’m passionate about the subject. So, it’s worth it.

Anyway, because of this I’m doing the thing bloggers do when they’re really, really busy but they want you to know they haven’t died, and that is that I will now post one of my favorite posts from the past along with a tiny update. (This was the update. It’s over now.)

Hope you enjoy! (Originally posted on 2-22-11)
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Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Being Wife is HARD!


I really feel bad for Wife sometimes.

I mean it. Being at home raising kids all day? NOT always a bag of giggles and a knapsack of laughs. For one thing, you have to deal with a lot of crap. And by crap I mean feces as well as bad behavior from toddlers. For another, your job pretty much boils down to a lot of cleaning.So you’re kind of like a janitor. A janitor with no breaks. That has to touch poop. And let babies suck on your body parts. And who doesn’t get paid.

Not the most amazing gig if you’re reading it in a Craigslist ad, you know?

Seeking highly motivated college graduate to wipe three rectums, cook and clean and turn things on and off and put soiled clothes into a big metal machine over and over while also making sure the three owners of said rectums don’t die. Also, do you know CPR? Never mind, just don’t let them choke. Also, we will need you to go to the store with them all the time, which will resemble trying to place food items into a rolling cart as three rabid orangutans on crack physically assault you and/or try to run away and die in the parking lot. Also, don’t forget to clean! Also, The Weed forgot his lunch. Will you wrangle those orangutans on crack into the car to bring it to him? Also, your job is the easiest in the world! You get no respect from society because you don’t WORK! Obviously. 


Compensation: The Weed will occasionally remember to say thank you.  In addition, you can eat the food you bought at the store. If you make it.

Please. Please just let me die now.


Yeah. Sign me right up.

This morning highlighted another way being Wife is hard. Isolation. Not just social isolation–sure that’s a very difficult component to this whole experience, the feeling that your closest companion is four years old. But I mean from the world at large. There have been some very conspicuous moments where it became really, really clear just how isolated Wife is becoming here in this house alone with the kids.

Like, when we were talking to some friends the other night on g-chat. One of us brought up the conflict in Egypt and we starting discussing it, and Wife said “Egypt? What’s happening in Egypt?”

There was no really easy way to explain to Wife, whose degree was in geography and who, before there were children in the Weed household, used to be much more in touch with current events than I am, that there had been unrest in Egypt for weeks.

Then someone said something about President’s day and how it’s amazing we now have a black president, and Wife was like “Wait, what? We have a black president? Are you serious? Is it Lionel Richie???”

Okay, so that last part was a joke. But the Egypt part? Real. Just like when the earthquake in China happened. And the earthquake in Haiti. And the oil spill. And when they outlawed Capri pants. Poor girl is totally disconnected from the world and has to rely on me for all news.

That’s why, this morning, I snuggled up by her and decided to tell her today’s headlines.

“There was an earthquake in New Zealand,” I say.

“Oh, they have a new Zealand?!” wife says, looking catatonic with a baby bouncing on her lap. 

“No, sweetheart. It’s the same one as before,” and I pat her head. Then I hazard, “also, there were four US citizens murdered by Somali Pirates.”

To which wife looks bemused and says “I can’t imagine Pacific Islanders doing something like that.”

Then I pat her head again and whisper “Neither can I, sweetheart. Neither can I.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Somoa and Somolia, in a surprise twist of current events, are different countries.



Somalia is ALMOST in the same hemisphere as Samoa, so it’s an easy mistake to make.

Maybe we should have C-span playing in the background so that Wife’s mind can become re-invigorated.

Or perhaps it would be prudent to give her a day off?

(For the record, Wife is the one that found the map, immediately located Somalia on the map, immediately located Samoa on the map, and used fancy terms like “degrees of latitude” and “Chinook Winds” during the creation of this post and I just sat there looking stupid and saying ignorant things like “I had NO IDEA Somalia was in Africa!” This does not change the fact that the Somoa/Somalia mix up described actually happened this morning.)

(Also: My favorite part of this entire post? The fact that I was spelling Samoa wrong the whole time, except for in the picture caption. Wife, please come back to me! I need you to spot crap like this before I press “publish”!)


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All right, it’s real me again. Tomorrow I’ll be posting my FFAQ answer from last week (probably late in the afternoon or evening.) Saturday or maybe Sunday will be check-in. And thus the world will continue turning. 

Adieu.