Desperate House Dad

By Scott Tenkman

Desperate House Dad is real life fiction about a man, Paul Logan, who quits his job and decides to be a stay-at-home dad, while his wife, Jenny, continues to work and support their family. During the nine years Paul is a stay-at-home dad, he trudges on to welcome another son, and at times his patience is stretched to the limit. But the unforgettable moments, such as when his son takes his first steps, are what makes the entire stay-at-home dad experience worthwhile and satisfying for him. It also adds slide splitting humor into the decision of buying a mini-van, joining a stay-at-home dad's club, taking a child to church, grocery shopping, visiting the pediatrician, getting the kids' pictures taken, and having a vasectomy. This is a must read for anybody in a significant relationship and especially for those with children!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597050005

Book preview

One

Y ou’ve got to be kidding me, I said to one of the flunkies at the day care center my eight week old son Steve attended. I had just checked his diaper and it was soaked through his clothes, not to mention the huge log that looked like it had been in there all day. There is no way you changed his diaper all day! I yelled at the flunky, my voice rising with anger.

Sir, I assure you that we changed his diaper numerous times during the day, said the flunky. If you don’t believe me, you can check the diapers you left us.

Each week you have to leave a stash of diapers for the day care so they can change your child’s diaper, so I indulged and checked out the pile I had left. And sure enough, there were a few gone from the stack, but I had a suspicion that they used them on somebody else’s kids. The flunky looked at me and smiled as I examined the stash of diapers, as if this was conclusive evidence like at the end of CSI where Grissom always seems to find the one piece of evidence that nails the case shut.

I angrily put Steve in his car seat and stormed out of the building, and it just killed me to still see the smirk on the flunky’s face. This is a woman who wasn’t qualified to put the special sauce on a Big Mac, yet she is somehow qualified to watch children all day. Now I have to go home and deal with a fussy child with severe diaper rash, which is kind of like slowly having your toenails ripped out of you, except dealing with the child is more painful.

I loaded Steve into the Camry and drove off, all the while blasting the radio so I didn’t hear his screams of pain because of his sore behind. As I drove to my suburban hell, I started to reflect on my life and how I had gotten to this point. I was twenty nine years old, balding, and married with one child. In college I had graduated with a Computer Science degree and was now working in Desktop Support for a mid-sized company. I liked my job, but like most people, if I had the choice to go to work or not, I wouldn’t have worked. The people I worked with were great, but being in Desktop Support is a dead end job. And since I leave work everyday on time to pick up my child and actually have a family life, I just had to shut up and pray that my job wasn’t outsourced to someone who could hack into the Federal Reserve but couldn’t order a Whopper from Burger King without a translator. So I had to take my 2% annual raise and shut up, so that’s exactly what I did.

I turned onto my street and head to our two car garage suburban home, which we had just closed on a couple of months back. My wife, Jenny, and I had bought the house so we could have more room for the baby stuff, and we quickly found out that even a two car garage, four bedroom, full basement house is not enough to store all the crap you need to have a child. I wondered how my parents raised us without disposable diapers or fifteen different car seats, one for every pound the child gains. Was I raised by animals? I pulled into the house and, thankfully, Steve had fallen asleep. I took him inside and decided to let him sleep in the car seat for a while until my wife got home from work.

My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world, and I am sure most men think that about their wives. But she really is, not just because of her physical beauty, but because of everything about her. I love the way she smiles at me when we see each other for the first time after a long hard day’s work, and then my heart still races when she comes over to me to give me a hug and a kiss. Marrying Jenny was the best decision I’ve ever made, and I would do it a thousand times over.

Jenny is an accounting manager at a local manufacturing company which treats her great, pays her well, and offers flexible hours. In other words, the exact opposite of my employer. After we kiss, she looks at Steve sleeping and just gushes, What an angel.

Wait until he wakes up, I said sarcastically. I explained the day’s events to her, and after looking at Steve’s behind, she also was convinced that his diaper hadn’t been changed. Later that night, after having spread diaper rash medicine on Steve for the hundredth time, I started to wonder if it was the secret ingredient in spackle. It’s gooey, white, and smells horrible, so I might just have to try to patch a wall with it one time to see how it does.

After we put Steve down to bed, I thought of a way to find out if his diaper was being changed. I remembered an old trick my father used on the mechanic when he suspected that he wasn’t rotating his tires. He marked the tires before he took it to the mechanic, and, sure enough, he caught him red-handed, so he gave my father’s money back. To this day, the mechanic has never screwed him again or he will feel the wrath of my father. So the next morning, as I was putting a new diaper on Steve and trying to keep him from peeing all over me, I took a marker and marked the inside of the diaper. That way I will at least know if they had changed it once, and considering his ass still looks like Rudolph’s nose, I would hope they would do better today.

After a long hard day of really doing nothing except play with computers, as my father put it, I headed out to pick up Steve. The flunky met me at the door and, as always, had this little half-assed smirk on her face that makes my blood boil. I calmly go over to Steve and check his diaper, but before I can get to the diaper I notice that his onesie is soaked through again with pee. I can’t believe it, so then I change his diaper and, lo and behold, the one I had marked this morning is still on him! At last I had caught them red-handed! I change the diaper and, as calmly as I can, take the pee/log-filled diaper to the flunky and once again accuse her of not changing his diaper.

Once again she said, Sir, I assure you that we changed his diaper numerous times during the day.

The hell you did! I yell at the top of my lungs so that all the other parents that are picking up their children start giving me dirty looks. I marked this diaper this morning before I dropped him off, and he still has it on!

The flunky knows that she’s busted, and is struggling for words when, out of the blue, her manager shows up. Sir, is there a problem? she asked.

The problem is that this day care is a freaking joke, and my child’s ass looks like a baboon because your employees don’t seem to grasp the concept of changing diapers, I said, forcing myself to not yell.

The manager then goes over to the flunky and is discussing my complaint when she finally walks back to me. Sir, I apologize for the mishap, and it won’t happen again.

You’re damn right it won’t happen again, because I’m never bringing my child back here. And I want my money back for the rest of the month!

The manager coolly replies, I’m sorry sir, but if you had read the contract you signed with us, you would find that there is a no refund clause.

I lost it. Have you seen the size of that contract I signed? I think I could have read Webster’s Dictionary faster than that thing, plus I would need a magnifying glass to read all the fine print. Let me ask you this: In the contract that you speak of, is there a clause in there saying that you and your flunkies can leave children wallowing in their own excrement all day? Because if there is, then maybe I also missed that clause.

The manager’s face has turned red now, and she is clearly flustered. I’ll see what I can do, she said to me as she stormed off into her office. Ten minutes later she came back with a check for me and apologized for the incident. Then it hit me: I’m probably the first person ever to get a refund from a day care center, so I quickly pack up Steve and head for the door. Just like a robber, I didn’t want to linger too long in case they change their minds. But as I start the car I then finally realize what I’ve done. Who’s going to watch Steve? I thought to myself.

As I drove home, I started to think of excuses to tell my wife when she gets home from work. Honey, I had to take Steve out of day care. Two of the kids just came down with Mad Cow Disease and were frothing at the mouth. It was terrifying! But I knew she wouldn’t buy it. So on I went, Steve still crying from his sore bottom and me getting more depressed by the minute.

Hello Honey! said my wife as she walked through the front door.

Hi Honey, I said to her as she gave me a kiss.

What’s going on? she asks.

Well, I said nervously, my car needs an oil change, my boss decided he’s going to give me more work for less money, I took Steve out of day care, and your mother called and left you a message, hoping to slip one by her. But all she heard was the Steve part.

You what? she asked incredulously.

Look at his ass, I said. "I caught them red-handed not changing his diaper all day, so I couldn’t take it anymore. I refuse to send our child to a day care that doesn’t care for him. I mean, that is the last half of their title—care." They do the day part just fine, but the caring part really needs some work. Now I know not all day cares are as bad as this one, but it is the closest to our house and most affordable."

To my surprise, my wife agrees with me. You were right to take him out, but what the heck are we going to do now? We can’t find a day care at the drop of a hat, and both our parents can’t watch him.

As I sat there it hit me what I have to do, but I’m having a difficult time saying it. About twenty minutes went by in complete silence, and then I blurt out the words that would change my life forever, I’ll stay home and watch him.

My wife’s jaw hit the floor. You mean you would quit work and be a stay-at-home dad? she asks, just as confused at this sudden change of events as I am.

Yes, I said. Look, you make more money than I do, so it doesn’t make financial sense for you to stay home. Plus, I work in a dead end job, and once the kids are in grade school, assuming we have more than one child which means we actually have to have sex again, I can look for another dead end job. I’ve been crunching the numbers in my head, and I think we can do it and still keep everything that we currently have. Just no more fancy vacations or eating out as much, but at least Steve will be raised by one of his parents who care about him and will teach him right from wrong.

My wife just smiled at me, came over and sat in my lap, gave me a big kiss and said, I have never been more in love with you than I am right now.

So the adventure begins.

Two

It’s now Monday morning , and the thought of watching this baby, who is totally dependent on me, is making me a nervous wreck. I try to stall. Honey, I think Steve is coming down with something, so you better not go to work today since you are much better at this than I am.

She isn’t biting. Nice try, but I just checked on Steve and he’s fine. Now I left my work number on the refrigerator, so please call if you have any problems, she says as she kisses Steve and I goodbye.

Well, I guess it’s just the two of us, I said to Steve. He then proceeds to cry uncontrollably, so I pace with him and search frantically for his pacifier. Lucky for us we have the Pacifier Organizer so it is easy to find. What’d parents do in the old days before the Pacifier Organizer? I have no idea. I quickly put the pacifier in his mouth, and after walking around the house for about a mile, he settles down and starts to sleep. See? This isn’t so bad. I wonder if it’s lunch time yet? To my dismay, it is only 8:30AM. What the heck am I going to do with a newborn all day long?

Then I suddenly remember that I haven’t told my boss yet that I won’t be coming back to work, so I give him a call as I sit there holding Steve as he sleeps.

Hi Paul, aren’t you at work yet? asked my boss.

Boy, you are really on top of things, I think to myself.

I hate to break it to you like this, I said, but I have to stay at home to watch my child, so I officially quit.

As I wait for him to starting begging me to stay, I’m thoroughly dismayed when I hear, Okay Paul, I respect your decision. In fact, this makes my job easier because I have to lay somebody off anyways. Why don’t you come in tomorrow night after your wife gets home from work so we can sign some papers and discuss any outstanding work you have?

I can’t believe how nonchalant he is about me leaving, and it makes me wish I had left a long time ago. I want to tell him to go to hell, but I remember that you should never burn bridges because you just never know when you’ll need some help, so I say, Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow around 5:30. And with that, I’m officially unemployed.

My wife calls and asks if I have changed his diaper yet. Of course I have, I lie. I think he needs another diaper change, so where do you put the dirty diapers when you’re upstairs?

I’ve changed plenty of diapers before, but I always took them out to the garbage cans right away, which is something you can’t do when you’re holding a newborn.

Just put them in the Diaper Genie, she said, as if I should have a clue what the Diaper Genie is.

Okay, I said to her. Now, where is that Diaper Genie, and how come I didn’t know we had a Genie? I wonder if she looks like that hot Genie on I Dream of Jeanie?

As I look around for an old shoe to rub, hoping that the Diaper Genie will pop out, I find this container in the corner of the room with the words Diaper Genie written on it. Okay, now I get it, so I march over to it and eventually figure out how to use it. What a cool contraption, although I wonder how our parents made it without one of these? My parents said they used a Diaper Service that would come around, pick up the dirty cloth diapers, and then wash them and bring them back to you. I can’t imagine many parents doing that today because it’s just way too much work.

Speaking of parents, the one