Confessions of a Househusband

CONFESSIONS OF A HOUSEHUSBAND is available at,,, and independent bookstores in your neighborhood.

Friday, February 4, 2011

The mini van/an excerpt from Confessions of a Househusband

Here is the problem.  When you’re a stay at home dad, you naturally start to get in touch with your feminine side.  A little too much, in fact.  You spend your day changing diapers, doing laundry, shopping for cat food, clicking by Oprah, Dr. Phil, and Days of Our Lives, trying to do it all in a manly way.  Which means making certain decisions.
            Take transportation for example.  Mini vans are not manly.  You might as well print Mr. Mom on my license plate if I get one.  You might as well have Mary Kay sponsor it for me and make it all pink.  Oh, sure they have those cool sliding doors that make life real easy for you as you hold one kid under your arm, scoot the other one inside with your foot, balance that latte and search for your keys.
            But real men don’t do certain things.  They don’t have cats that didn’t come with a girlfriend.  They don’t drink white zinfandel.  They don’t have little fluffy dogs.  Although they often do, they don’t admit to watching Sex in the City, Desperate Housewives, or Trading Spaces.  And they don’t drive mini vans.
            I found a way to have most of the luxuries of a mini van without adding any more touches of femininity to my resume.  I bought an SUV.
            Sure it drives like a truck and my kids bounce around a little.  Yes, it does get four miles to the gallon.  And no, it doesn’t have that remote control sliding door thing, or the DVD player.  But it’s manly. 

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