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** Help Joeprah Pay the Bills **
| Confessions of a Stay at Home Dad: 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 mood 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 Rick, 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, and 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, 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 pre-pregnancy was reserved with her physical functions) was now 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 as the window of time to interact as a couple narrows we found it very important to make more time for one another. I started coming home earlier, and we always had time for each other on the weekends. 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! All You Gots to Do is Click       
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