Whenever a family member gets sick it’s never a good thing. Especially when it’s your wife and the mother of your children. The matriarch. The glue. The sole reason your house is free of dust mites, black mold and happens to avoid the clutches of foreclosure.
These women are warriors. They battle each and everyday. They put up with their husbands daily antics which could drive Charles Manson to become a high school tennis coach.
My wife rarely gets sick. When she does I must hire the staff from Grey’s Anatomy (Including McDreamy) and retain Doogie Howser to bring her back to life as I sit on the couch with my 12 pack of beer and patiently wait for her text messages which instruct me what to do next.
These requests usually consist of “Please get the plunger and unclog the toilet babe” or “Please make me a bowl of ice cream” or “Babe I can’t sleep and its impossible to find an episode of Teen Mom to watch. Ugghhh!”
My children take advantage of the disabled boss of the home and run around like a bunch of untrained ferrets.
Being their dad, the only communication I’ve had with these little strange people who live in my home has been paying for their phones and patting them on the head every year for their birthday and treat them to Chilis after achieving a 37 in math on their report card.
As a father you believe you understand your role in all of this. Keep dreaming. What a mother & wife must actually deal with during the course of a day is something myself, you and any other gentlemen deciding to invest three months salary to make a women his future bride will never understand.
The normal husband routine consists of leaving for work in the morning. Hustle to support the family. Come home after work. Eat. Take a dump. Kiss our little ones. Make love to our spouses on leap year & pray she doesn’t leave us for some young guido with the clap. Simple.
I don’t know about you guys but when I get the common cold I find myself on bed rest for a week eating sodium infested chicken soup and try to convince myself I have the beginning stages of Polio.
It’s that moment you must step up and be a supportive dad and husband when your wife is ill that defines you as a worthy being. You must become the “Mom.” “The Wife.” “The I would rather shove a jalapeño pepper in my eye then deal with this shit.” This appears harder than calculus.
I don’t know about all the other dads and husbands out there but when I get that text from my wife stating she is not feeling well I personally do a shot of chloroform and swan dive off the highest bridge I can find.
The bottom line is this.
These women are built for a life of misery. They must deal with whining children who shit hot dogs and mustard. They must deal with whining husbands armed with hairy backs and sub par incomes who want to jump on top of them after they have been scrubbing toilets, fighting off bill collectors & frying chicken cutlets all day.
My advice is this. Make sure your wife gets her vitamin c daily. Also make it a point to shove spinach down her throat as she sleeps to stay strong and healthy!
Please ladies, don’t get sick. You throw our whole routine off. We need you!