When I first started reading blogs, I came upon Dad Gone Mad. I related to him, and he's funny, and a very good writer. Quickly, however, I got a little bored. He treated everything with the same tone, and he wrote about poopy stories, and it was a little bland after the fourth treating of the same topic.
This weekend, however, I had an epiphany. The epiphany wasn't pleasant. But first, some background.
While I was innocently working away at my job on Friday, Dear Wife took the kids to Mother In Law's house for lunch. The kids had a great time, and loved running around the grandparents house.
By the time I got home, the kids were worn out. Two points for MIL. Calm kids are always a plus. After the kids went down, I said "Honey, you should make sure to go to the Health Club tomorrow. I know how important working out is to you, and I really appreciate everything you do..."
Dear Wife was appreciative, and planned on going to Body Pump the next morning. As she was leaving Saturday morning she said "I'll be home at 11:45, and we'll have lunch. See you soon!"
The kids and I played for a while, and eventually LittleBrother needed a diaper change. As I changed the diaper, I suddenly realized that those innocent looking muffins on the counter HAD to have been bran muffins. And apparently, judging by the diaper, DearWife had also given him a double espresso that morning as well.
3 diaper changes later, I talk to Mother In Law, who informs me that she made the muffins on Friday and that LittleBrother is the world champion bran muffin eater of all time. Minus 10 points. Apparently he would not stop eating those things. At this point in the morning, I'm debating the odds that DearWife just happened to forget this little tidbit of information. I'm also counting the minutes until Dear Wife gets back, and I can cease the diaper changing duties.
11:45 came and went. That's ok, she's probably just chatting up a neighbor. After all, Health Clubs are a social place. 12:15 came and went. I think, crap, 30 minutes late, that's a long time for even DearWife to talk when she's supposed to be home.
So I call her cell phone. Which rings in the mud room.
By the time she got home (1 hour late, protesting that she never promised she'd be home at 11:45), the diaper flood was over. My hands are still chapped from the sheer volume of soap that was rubbed into them that morning.
Later that afternoon, I was reflecting on this whole thing. I knew I was going to post about it, and then realized that I'd be making a large post about poopy diapers. And I'd be becoming a little more like Dad Gone Mad.
That's when the epiphany hit. This is my life. Poopy diapers, for the near future, are going to be a big part of it. So that's what I'm gonna write about...And I'm sure it's the same with Dad Gone Mad as well. It kind of gave me a new appreciation of his blog.
And on the plus side, his blog is a peek into the future for me, as his kids are older than mine. I can already see this one coming.