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I had to pass on a bit of news to my loyal readers about something very exciting in the land of Joeprah. It may not seem like a big deal to many, but for me--it's huge. I have a place on the Examiner.com as the National Fatherhood Examiner. What does that mean? It means I get to expose my smart ass self to a larger audience and as a bonus I get to champion common sense parenting for a large media outlet. I plan on delivering some articles from Joeprah on my National Fatherhood Blog, but I will also feature some articles there that can only be found there. This makes all those times that my wife was like, "Why can't you stop blogging tonight and watch (insert horrible chick flick title here, if you can't think of one Coyote Ugly will suffice) with me?" and I was all like, "Sorry, this is important." seem somewhat realistic. If you care to make my day/week/month/year, why don't you stop by my new home and say hi, you'll be glad you did.
Who is Joeprah? I am a stay at home dad to three daughters. I have an amazing wife and under the direction and encouragement of close friends I started this site over a year ago. You can follow me at The 
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| My New Career as a Waste Removal Technician - Part II | | Print | |
| Written by Joeprah | |
Continued from this post...
Now as all the drama played out behind the scenes, my wife had moved up into configuration management and had her eye on a software testing job as she consistently scored high on reviews. My career was in a different state as I worked for a friend who had inherited half of his father’s construction company. I had no benefits, I worked long hard hours for a guy who handled his money poorly and although I made more money than my wife there were times my paychecks would bounce or times when I was told not to cash a paycheck for a period of time. It was easy to see between the two of us who had the more promising career. Our focus shifted from celebratory to concerned as we started “crunching the numbers” to try and find out what we were going to do once the baby was born. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that pound for pound Jodi’s job offered more mobility, benefits and was a less abusive environment physically to boot. We really couldn’t think of a reason for me to stay in my job unless my boss—a close friend of mine—would concede benefits to me. “Joe, I just can’t do it,” was the predictable answer I got from my boss and friend, and I understood that he was limited as a small business owner in what he could do for his employees. So there it was, my wife was going to work full-time and I was going to be home with the baby. We were in no way financially stable and we did need some form of supplemental income so it was decided that I would stay on working in construction part-time as our mothers would take turns watching the baby a few days a week. Jodi had horrible morning sickness and woke up vomiting every morning for eight months. This was new territory for both of us as my wife, a normally calculated logical sort of woman, started to battle emotional highs and lows with the raging hormones circulating through her rapidly expanding midsection. I am not sure if all pregnant people act the same way, but my wife who was normally reserved with her physical functions now during her pregnancy was having a coming out party of sorts. Normally, Jodi would stifle a fart for hours rather than “let one go.” Burp? Never. But now, Jodi was pregnant. She was chock full of food, liquid and hormones all of which were pulsating in her midsection. What proved to be the proverbial “straw” on the gastro-intestinal camel was the added pressure of a baby jumping around in her belly. Who would of thunk it? I started hearing the strangest noises coming from her. “Was that a fart? I don’t think I have ever heard you fart.” “Well, now you have.” I kinda liked having a fart buddy in some ways. I stopped feeling bad about raising my leg to rip one. She also was burping like she was in a contest or trying out for a freak show. I remember we were at her aunt’s house, who is our oldest daughter’s godmother, and after she burped I remarked, “She’s like Jupiter, largest ball of gas in the solar system.” I am a romantic in many ways, but comparing my wife to Jupiter never scored me any points. Not only was she sounding like a pig, she ate like one too. Literally. She was disgusting as she asked for more and more food and made wild grunting noises as she slid roast chicken after roast chicken into her swollen gullet. Her ability to consume food probably added to her lack of energy as she, like a bear in the wilderness, would need to sleep off her calories earlier and earlier each night. We paid most of our way through college waiting tables and the remainder was paid in scholarships and aid we qualified for. Waiting tables meant we were used to being night owls. Now, my wife started to go to bed at nine o’clock; then nine turned into eight-thirty; eight-thirty turned into eight and that is where our schedule remained until the baby was born. It was difficult for two people who had always been as close as two people could be to become distant to some degree over the course of the six months of the pregnancy. We both left for work early and I usually came home late from work so we typically had time for dinner together and soon she was snoring. I am not sure if other couples experience this test during their first pregnancy or maybe all their pregnancies but after some getting used to we found ways to make time for each other. I started coming home earlier and we always had time for each other on the weekends and I knew that with each passing scoop of mash potatoes onto her plate we were getting closer to a goal—the baby was almost here.
Stay tuned for the next exciting installment! If you like it, tell a friend to register.
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