Will Dad ever do his share? Uh, define share.

I'm a little late on this one but last week's New York Times Magazine ran a cover story entitled, "When Mom and Dad Share it All."

The cover tag was a little more pointed -- it had a child holding a list with "Will Dad Ever Do His Share?" printed underneath.

Of course, they don't define share.

My husband will tell you, with a completely straight face, that he does at least half of the house and child care here. He honestly believes it. You can remind him that he spends 15 months deployed and then 3 month trips to the field when he's not downrange and he still believes it. And that is because he sees "share" as being what he has the capacity to do after work.

It's taken me a long time -- and a helluva lot of angst -- to understand that.

Honestly, I don't know that a child benefits from a score card type of parenting. I'm all for Dads getting more involved and those who can and want to taking paternity leaves or staying at home. But more and more, as I've wasted years shaking my fists at the sky over what seems like an unending inequity in family duties, I realize I could benefit from taking the same tact as my husband.

No, no -- I'm not advocating neglect of my child. But when the kitchen is cleaned, who does it hurt if the pots soak overnight? If a few toys don't get put away before bedtime, who says I have to spend my evening cleaning them up?

Maybe "equality" isn't really what we should be striving for here.

*Sigh*

"It can't be done."

It's amazing how often the big, green machine responds to families with this particular phrase. Even after they promised that it, indeed, could be.

Okay, even if you are a fan of the President, this is funny.

Little Brown will be publishing a new children's book, "Goodnight, Bush." It's a parody of the tired classic "Goodnight, Moon" and includes lines like:

And a quiet Dick Cheney whispering hush.

Complete with said Vice President sitting in the Old Lady's rocking chair, holding a shotgun.

What will people dream up next?

Oh, jeez. You have to be kidding me.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. _____. This is Mrs. _____, my husband is in the Medics section."

"Hi! How are you?"

"Well, not so good and that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What's up?"

"Well, I got my newsletter yesterday. And I was looking at the photos."

"Oh yeah. I think your husband's photo was in it, right?"

"Yes, his was. But behind him, in the chow line, I noticed there was a female. A blond woman."

"Uh...a female?"

"Yes, a female. Can you explain what she's doing there?"

"I'm looking at the photo now, ma'am. I'm not sure what there is to explain. She's a soldier. Looks like she's just getting herself some food."

"That is bullshit. This is supposed to be an infantry unit. Our guys should be nowhere near females."

I hate people.

Today, at the commissary, I found myself stuck in the freezer aisle. They had brought in some new brands of chicken nuggets and I wanted to look over the labels to see which were the least damaging to my child's health.

The aisle was also the site of a bunch of Father's Day promotional crap so after a few minutes of perusing, I realized I was blocking the aisle. It was a Mom with a little girl about Munchkin's age.

I apologized for blocking and not noticing and then said, "Given my son's predilection for meat in its most unnatural state, I am just trying to find the most healthy nugget they have."

She gave me a really snotty look and then said, "Chicken nuggets are never healthy. Maybe you should try actually cooking for your child if you are really concerned for his health."

I was stunned. Literally, speechless. Who says that kind of shit?

On the drive home, I thought about all the things I could have said to her. I could have made a list of all the stuff I do cook and all the healthy food my kid eats regularly. I could have complimented her on having so much free time and suggested that it may be due to her not having any life. I could have asked her if she had a stick lodged permanently up her ass or only when it came to kid cuisine. I could have asked if her fine family cooking was the reason why she was obese. I could have cursed her out. Or I could have just beaten the shit out of her and then screamed, "Clean-up in Aisle 11, Bob!" But, you know, why bother?

People can be nasty for no reason whatsoever. And I'm learning, when it comes to parenting, the viper tends to strike even harder.

So you cook those healthy meals, lady, and feel superior about it. We're doing just fine over here -- even with the occasional chicken nugget.

I can't quite get my head around this.

I know I'm a day or two late with this. But not guilty? Seriously?

R. Kelly acquitted on all child porn counts

No need to be concerned.

I've just been busy. This whole FRG thing is bleeding me dry -- we have a lot of young wives on their first deployment who just don't know how to cope outside of getting themselves drunk, laid or arrested -- and I am still trying to figure out how to find the best balance. Add to that some new work, a toddler with enough energy to power a small metropolis and a family visit and you have no time to blog.

Forgive me.

What have you been up to?

A good reminder.

"Despair wasn't a guest, you didn't play its favorite music, find it a comfortable chair. Despair was the enemy."

-Janet Fitch

Update on the Stage 5 clinger.

So I talked about S., my stage 5 clinger. Here's the update.

I tried to do the right thing. I explained that I could not help her. I put her in touch with her POC. I gave her the numbers for the military family life consultants and the chaplain. But the calls continued.

I finally lost my cool with her -- which was wrong, I admit -- but it did stop the calls. At least it has for the past week. Unfortunately, it has not stopped the drama as, in my absence, she's started calling everyone else.

It's going to be a long deployment. *sigh*

Sisterhood of the traveling porn.

About 10 years ago, I worked at a dot.com start-up with a group of really cool, really fun women. Though the company did not last long, our friendship has managed to last. Those long working hours and all that creative passion has created a very strong connection between us all, even now that life and love have scattered us to the winds.

Back then, we were all young and single. But when the first of us fell and accepted a proposal of marriage, we did the only thing we could think of to celebrate the milestone. We headed to the local sex shop to buy the nastiest, dirtiest porno movie we could find to give to her at her bridal shower.

I remember specifically being the one, full of some liquid courage, asking the balding, creepy store clerk for the "grossest, most out there" video they had. I should have known that the bar was set pretty high when he had trouble deciding.

Anyway, we bought the video -- I think it was called Bukkake Twins or something like that -- and laughed our asses off when K. opened it up in between crockpots and 250 thread count sheet sets.

But K. had the last laugh. When the next of us succombed to marriage, H., guess what she received at her shower?

And since then, every momentous occasion -- weddings, babies, promotions, a divorce, the decision to leave a job to travel for 6 months -- has been celebrated with the gift that keeps on giving -- nasty porn.

So I should have known when I received an unexpected package from S. that there were shenanigans afoot. But I was so busy entertaining my family, who had been staying for a few weeks, that it didn't even occur to me to be suspicious. Instead, I said, "Oh! How awesome!", touched by the unexpected gift, and then handed the package to my mother to open, as Munchkin was running amok.

"Here's to a Busy and Satisfying Deployment!" the card read, covering a DVD with a gaping vagina and erect penis on the cover.

I don't think my mother will ever recover.