From childless bachelor to primary caregiver, in 1,000 ill-considered steps

I’m not really sure how I ended up here. Ten years ago, I was a confirmed bachelor, professional writer and editor, and footloose child- … well, not hater, but disliker, or maybe just indifferenter.

Now, I’m a husband, the cook, “freelance” (read: unemployed but willing to earn a buck), and not just a father, but the primary caregiver and a stay at home dad — all without having ever consciously chosen such a radically different path from what might once have been expected. And no, I’m not entirely at peace with my new life.

Actually, how I got here isn’t a complete mystery. My wife is half WASP; seizing control of the stove could be viewed as an act of self-defense. Oh, all right– maybe that’s unfair to a certain ethnic “cuisine”; my wife is just a lousy cook.

And my wife is a physician with her own practice, while I’m a scribbler. It’s really a no-brainer when it comes to deciding which income to consider expendable.

As for the rest … There’s a lot to delve into. I’ll get to it over time. Like where did that kid come from? Yeah, that’s a big one.

And I’ll write about pretty much anything else that catches my fancy, from the unexpected (but gratifying) process of choosing among education alternatives to the shitty local public schools, to my continuing astonishment at the degeneration of so many American males into immature man-boys who dress like 14-year-olds and act like jackasses.

Come along for the ride.

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