Sunday, May 6, 2007

Ode on a Grecian Urn Alex

There has been some concern voiced about Alex's portrayal on Stimeyland. This concern has come mostly from Alex himself. "You blogged about me making fun of a little kid who likes math? A little girl?" "You blogged about me practically knocking Quinn out with a basketball?" "Your definition of me is a lawyer working for the forces of evil?" [I know, Alex, I have to stop being so redundant.]

Yes, Alex, yes I did. Oh, and so much more.

So I'm here to set the record straight. Alex, although practically a force of evil himself, is one of the most ethical, thoughtful, conscientious people I've ever known. I may not agree with his core beliefs (and by "may not", I mean "do not"), but I do believe that he will always try to do the right thing. I guess what I feel about Alex is that I probably (and I'm talking the social/political realm here) won't agree with most of what he has to say, but I will agree with the thought process that got him there.

As for the household? Well, stay at homers, prepare to be jealous, but I haven't done the dishes for a good three or four years. He is a fully equal partner in taking care of the house. He knows how to start Scooba; he recently came up with a plan for doing the laundry that involved...well frankly I didn't listen much past, "I'll start it in the morning," although I did hear him say, "and fold it at night." And even though—as he oftentimes points out—I haven't been pregnant for a good two years, he still cleans out the cat litter all by himself.

In fact, the last time he went out of town, I was totally at a loss for how to get the kids ready for school in the morning because by the time I roll my ass out of bed and get dressed with my teeth brushed at 8:30, Alex has the munchkins dressed, fed, and even though they often end up in color combinations that I wouldn't choose and their breakfasts are all over their faces, the only thing I really have to do is brush their teeth and get their shoes on. When Alex took off for a couple days last week, chaos reigned at breakfast. I used the wrong bowls for cereal. I tried to give Jack the purple vitamins when orange is obviously better. Quinn, for some reason I still haven't figured out, was totally inconsolable.

Which leads me to: Basically he's a good guy, a good provider, helpful in the house, and a great husband, but maybe the best thing about Alex is what a super dad he is. He plays with the guys, he reads to the guys, he loves the guys more than anything. He'll go places with all three of them that I don't dare to venture to. (Although some may argue that taking three kids under six to Chuck E. Cheese by yourself is stupidity, not qualified parenting.)

So next time I create a vivid, unflattering word picture of Alex, like when I make fun of him for, say, telling Sam that one day the Earth is going to die and all the people will float off into space or something, remember that underneath all the buffoonery and bad puns is a sweet, loving, smart, decent man and father.

I love you, Alex. Sorry for...well, publishing our life.


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