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March 2007
Problems of the Modern Man
Dear Friends,
I keep telling my wife how easy she has it, marrying a guy like me. After all, I was well into my 30s when we got married, so, I came to her already "trained" in the pursuits of domestic life.
Having lived on my own for some time after college, I knew how to wash my own laundry, grill a decent steak or burger, do dishes, pick up after myself, and, under duress, take out the garbage and clean the bathroom. I made a big deal out of these skills while we were dating, so when we got married, Donna fully expected my prowess around the house to kick in immediately.
Trying to impress my new wife, I often cooked her supper when she got home from a hard day teaching. I took on my share of the household duties, still secure in my manhood. But one day, I went too far. I attempted to wash some of my wife’s clothes.
I was trying to be helpful, you know, be a good, attentive husband. When I did my own laundry, I just washed everything in cold water and threw it all together. It usually came out OK. If some of my T-shirts took on a pastel blue from my blue jeans, it was no big deal. The calves and pigs didn’t care.
Thinking I had the laundry process down, I washed some of her "good, school clothes". But when she came home that night and removed the clothes from the dryer, she realized that her new husband didn’t know as much as he thought he did. I was immediately demoted back down to cleaning bathrooms and scrubbing floors.
When our first child, daughter Lauren, was born, that first diaper changing was something I will never forget. It was a true "first" in my life and the poor kid I’m sure worried if her old man would ever get that darn diaper on correctly. Finally, I got a little better at the process. So by the time Taylor came along a year and a half later, I was sure I could change a diaper in my sleep, and had several times.
We got Taylor all dressed up in her new outfit just a few minutes before we were ready to take her and Donna home from the hospital. "You’d better change her before we head home," my wife wisely suggested.
I began changing Taylor’s diaper, and in the process she wet all over her new clothes, and me. Again, I was knocked off my high horse. All bids for "Dad of the Year" went out into the trash.
When Zachary was born last Winter, Donna came home to a pretty messy house. She was feeling tough at first, and was worried that our house would never be clean enough to host our families the weekend Zac was baptized. She fretted over this quite a little, so, being the kind husband I am, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I told Donna that I’d hired a lady named Freida to come in to clean the house while she and Zac had a doctor’s appointment. This new cleaning lady came highly recommended, I told my wife. She was skeptical, but I insisted.
When Donna came home from the appointment, the house was as clean as a whistle. "Wow," Donna exclaimed. "This is as clean as it’s ever been. She did a super job."
If only she had stopped there. She asked more questions about Frieda’s background, where she came from, how old she was, and where I learned about her services. By this time, I was laughing so hard that I was nearly in tears. Donna looked at me entirely puzzled. I blurted out, "I am Frieda."
You can imagine my wife’s reaction to this revelation. She couldn’t believe it. She was happy for a clean house, but this whole deception thing bothered her greatly. After a few months, she began speaking to me again. Donna has finally calmed down after this incident, now a year later. Just don’t mention the name "Frieda" around her.
Sometimes you just have to look for a little fun in our daily lives. I only wished I had recorded Donna's reaction to "Frieda’s" great work in cleaning up the place. Priceless!
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