Bagel and I have spoken at length about my responsibilities if I am to stay at home and become a “house hubby.” She has it in her mind that she wishes to be a strong, independent, career woman who is the family breadwinner and brings home the bacon. It should be noted that I am several years older than Bagel and in a previous life, I spent six long years in Corporate America. I possess not an iota of desire to return to the Dilbert-style cubicle farm. In fact, it was working in Dilbertville those long, grueling, interminable hours and years which led to my first ER-hospitalization and my current health issues. So I’ve told her repeatedly and have encouraged her at every opportunity: Bagel, if you wish to embark upon a life of early-morning conference calls, inner-office politics, and sitting inside in front of a computer for 10, 12, or even 14 hours a day, you are welcome to be my guest. I will dutifully and joyously support you every step of the way!
I will cook, grocery shop, and wash the dishes! I’ll clean, tidy, vacuum, and do the laundry! If one day we have kids, I’ll gladly change diapers and feed them Gerber’s baby formula so they don’t die. I will be the best house hubby the world has ever seen. Granted, I’ve never been a parent before. But I’ve seen first-hand the horrors of office life and there’s no way, in this lifetime or the next, that you can convince me that bending over to put Moana into the DVD player to entertain the little ones for the eleventh-hundredth time is somehow possibly more difficult than the soul-crushing, spirit-defeating office work that I did back in my bank days. Than being tethered, 24/7, to my office Blackberry that was my ball and chain. No way.
Continue reading “A Letter to Bagel: I am Publicly Committing to Being the Perfect House Hubby”