Posted by: laughs4dads | November 22, 2010

Oh, No, Not Again

I’ll probably get in some sort of trouble for saying this, but women are very stupid people.

Imagine for a moment that you’re a spy.  You have top secret information, but the enemy has captured you, and they’re going to do all they can to get you to talk. 

For 75% of an entire year, they attempt to extract the information from you by means of subtle torture.  They give you one drug that makes you go to the bathroom constantly.  They give you another that makes your body change into weird shapes, and a third that causes you to lose control of your emotions.  They cover your body with something that makes it itch.  They make you swallow a little machine that kicks the inside of your stomach.

But you are a good spy.  You do not talk.  And so your frustrated enemy brings out the heavy artillery.  For as long as a full day, maybe longer, you are subjected to severe pain and you are offered no relief except some idiot who stands next to you reminding you to breathe.  This is because they want you to stay alive so they can get the information. 

Finally they get it out of you.  Sometimes, they even cut your stomach open to get it.  And then they do a very strange thing.  They keep it for a day or so, and then they give it right back to you.  Not only that, they set you free and make you take it with you.

Now call me a chauvinist pig, but I don’t know many people of the male persuasion who, after going through all that, would say, “Gee, that was fun, let’s do it again.”

But women do it all the time.  Almost as soon as the baby is harvested and begins moving on its own, women think it’s planting season again.  Evidently, they find pregnancy so enjoyable, their spherical bodies so attractive (especially since so much maternity clothing is ridiculously designed with horizontal stripes so they look like they’re in a remake of Jailhouse Rock starring fat Elvis), and the result of the last go ’round so endearingly noisy, they can’t wait to re-experience the entire process.

I ask you: is this smart?  Is this a normal human response to painful and annoying stimuli?  Is this anything a man would want to do?


Now Barbara was otherwise a fairly intelligent person, but she was apparently as susceptible to female lunacy as the next woman.  So a year or two after Casey was born, she wanted another baby.

She had a long list of reasons for this, reasons that, in her demented state of mind, she thought were completely rational.  Leading this list was her desire for Casey not to be an only child.

“I don’t want Casey to be an only child,” she would say.  “I want her to be normal.”

I took this argument as a personal affront, since I am an only child.  I also don’t consider myself to be any less normal than Barbara or her two sisters.  I kept hearing about oldest child syndromes and youngest child syndromes and middle child syndromes.  It seemed to me that an only child avoids these syndromes, although Barb refuted this point by saying that, on the contrary, an only child does not avoid any these syndromes; an only child has all of them.  

Barbara had carefully and (she supposed) sanely planned out the approximate timing of a second child to coincide with Casey’s ability to help out.  I pointed out that Casey would be able to help out a lot more if she was, say, twenty instead of two and a half.  Barbara laughed maniacally at this.

You might be thinking, “Hey, there, if you love Casey as much as you say, what was your objection to a second child?”

Well, to be honest, I sort of wavered on the subject.  At times I thought maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Casey to have a sibling.  That way, when she grew up, she could spend virtually all her time on the phone with this sibling and, the rest of the time actually be in the presence of this sibling.  This was certainly how Barbara and her sister, Karen, operated, and they were the only siblings I knew well enough to observe closely.

But whenever I got ready to bite the bullet and say “okay,” sanity would kick in (this is a major difference between men and women) and I would think of Saturdays and Sundays.  Those were the two days during which I was around my daughter all the time.  And, yes, I love her, but when she was two, I’d go nuts trying to keep her entertained for a full day, and I looked forward to when we could play games with actual rules like “Candyland,” but what good would that be if we had this other baby laying around who would have to be entertained simultaneously.

So I stalled. I was holding out for Karen to have a baby, so that her baby and Casey could be as close as siblings, and Barb could vent her maternal instincts with Karen’s baby the same way Karen did with Casey, and I could watch the Mets game.

In retrospect, maybe we should have had another kid, but then, you never know how that one would have turned out. It’s a role of the dice after all. I mean, look at the Baldwin brothers. 


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