Delores and Jeanne, you absolutely, positively, fucking crush it. Five kids each, all of them still alive with all ten contributing to society. I have two now, the second having arrived in May, and my wife and I are physically and emotionally CRIPPLED. Zombies. Whiny little bitches waiting for fairies to come and help us somehow. May as well just curl up inside a liquor bottle and cry. Actually I already tried that for a few weeks and it didn’t work, so I laid off the sauce. And mind you I’m of the modern man generation who actually does stuff. My grandpas were olde timey men who “brought home the bacon” and wouldn’t know how to work a diaper if they took an entire semester of Diapers 101 in college. So largely my grandmas were on an island. I haven’t a fucking iota how they did it and still made dinner and didn’t hang themselves from the ceiling fan. If given the choice of a life of celibacy from this point forward or a third kid; well fit me for a monk’s habit and call me “Brother”. Fuck. That. Shit. The baby doesn’t sleep worth dick and the three year old bitches from sun up to sun down. She starts bitching at us before her bedroom door is even open in the morning, and it is coin toss whether her last words of the day will be “Good night” or “I hate you mom and dad go away and die” (not really that, but the sentiment is the same). My parents were in town for a night this week and when my wife was given the opportunity to drive into the city to pick up pizza and sit in parking lot rush hour traffic withOUT any kids in the car, the excitement with which she jumped at the chance was similar to if Bradley Cooper walked up to her on the street and asked if she wanted to run away with him and get married. When we were in Maui two weeks ago I was pretending to use the bathroom while actually scanning flights on the iPad to Guam. One-way flights. One ticket. My grandmas had 2.5 times this many kids. Why? Whatever insane answer they have to that question my hat is off to them both.
*Don’t any of my cousins get cute and actually show this to our grandma. I’ve got enough to deal with and don’t want to add the stink –eye from grandma at Thanksgiving dinner for my foul mouth to the list.