One of my favorite excuses to procrastinate writing, aka blame on not writing, is my poor, dear husband. Here’s how it goes:
1. He likes to take on house projects himself, which means myself since I tend to be the handyperson in our house.
2. Even though they both can speak and potty, he’s terrified of being on his own with the kiddos. They obviously know this and exploit it to the fullest which in turn, leaves him more terrified each time. Vicious cycle.
3. He gets a little, eensy bit jealous of my laptop. Even if we’re doing no more than watching TV as the kiddos play, if I bust out the laptop, he wants me to look up five different inconsequential things that he could more easily look up on the main computer or at a later time. Or makes comments about mommy and her sex books.
4. Recent studies show, when men marry, they lose the ability to feed and clothe themselves, rinse dishes and flush. Scientists hypothesize these tendencies may be linked to reward system potty training.
These four combined create a wall of distraction I sometimes feel I’ll never get over. Today, hopefully, I’ll find a door instead.