Men Are From Mars

by Brian Flannery

My wife left me yesterday. She says she's coming back today but we'll just see. We have four kids. Getting four kids fed and in bed is a nightmare.

Before she left she asked me if I could handle it. "Of course." Failure is not an option. But there's a difference between five star service and, oh, one star (half star?).

We survived the meal thanks to a neighbor woman who brought over her kids and a pizza. We even survived that twilight zone between dinner and bed time. It's too early to put them straight to bed, so I'm told. If you can't put them in their cribs yet, next best thing is to exhaust them. After letting them climb all over our yard and play set, we let them run around the neighbor's.

Throw them in the bath to wash off the sand. Nothing's better for the pipes than some playground sand. Diaper them up and they're almost ready for bed.

Mommy left a stack of pajamas. Who needs pajamas? I learned recently that these things are not one size fits all.

I finally send them to bed; each outfit almost fits its wearer. Now I'm exhausted and they're not happy either. Perfect: crying is great. The adrenalin released in a typical crying fit is mild. After Dad has tried to push you into three or four outfits, the crying fit is fierce. A deliciously quiet adrenalin crash follows a few minutes of sincere wailing.

Father secret #1: Cry them to sleep. Work them into a sad frenzy then shut the door, turn the TV up loud and wear ear plugs if you have to.

Now all I have to worry about is breakfast. Or midnight fits.