I Need a Man of Steel

So I’m a full-time writer now. What does that mean? It means that every morning, the Hot Man drives me to the library and leaves me there until 7pm at night. But first, I make him stop at the bakery up the road so I can get my lunch. A brown bread corned beef sandwich, a chocolate lamington, a Diet coke. And a packet of dried mango from the saiga fruit shop. (Don’t even ask why I don’t make a packed lunch from home, okay? It has something to do with the fact that there is no corned beef or chocolate lamingtons in my house…laziness figures in the equation somewhere too.) At the library, it takes me at least 30 minutes to get comfortable. Unpack laptop and boot up. Plug in earphones. Choose fabulous writing songs for the day. (This week its Enrique I like how it feels. On full blast. My eardrums may not survive the writing of this next book.) Zone in and zone out. Find what hot pivotal scene I feel like diving into first and then I’m away for the next six hours. (So next time you’re at the library and you see a strange chick humming and dancing in her chair at a laptop in the corner, or laughing to herself or exclaiming, ‘Ha! die fool!’  That would be me, having an imaginary conversation with Simone OR refereeing a show down between Daniel and Keahi. Just walk on by…do not engage…no sudden movements…)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch – the Hot Man is managing a house full of our children and our rellies children who are currently living with us. Total children? Ten. Ranging in age from seventeen to three. In the beginning, I worried every day that by nightfall, I would come home to find them all locked in the basement with their mouths duct-taped shut but I have been pleasantly surprised. Not only is the house cleaner than I’ve ever seen it but the children are showered and fed, the dishes are done and dinner is ready for me when I walk in the door. Wow and wow. The Hot Man’s home management skills are surprising me.

His skills are also making me look bad. Do you know how the Hot Man ( a civil engineer and steel fabricator by trade) cleans a toilet? He gets his toolbox and takes the entire toilet to pieces. He then uses three different cleaning products and several gadgets (steel wire brushes, a sander, and something else I don’t know the name of) to painstakingly scour every dismantled piece, nut, bolt and screw. It’s a very precise operation. (And don’t ask me where everyone goes to the toilet while they’re waiting for him to be done, because I don’t even want to think about that.) Then he puts everything back together again and that toilet is almost frightening in its gleaming wonder. My usual domestic efforts with a plastic toilet brush and a squirt of Jiff seem rather lame in comparison.

Sparkling, shiny truth be told, I’m almost disappointed that the Hot Man and the Fab5 are coping so well without me. I mean, heck, nobody even looks sad at all when I leave the house in the morning. Hello, I’m going now! Yeah, yeah just go already. Nobody actually misses me. I thought I was good at my home and family management job. But in comparison with the Hot Man’s efficiency and organization of his troops, my domestic reign (upon reflection) looks a little sloppy. We may as well rename him SuperMan.

Damn. I hope I’m good at this full-time writing thing. Because I’m not sure the Fab5 want to forsake the Man of Steel and go back to life with the Demented Domestic Goddess in charge.
So we know Henry Cavill can kick Immortal butt. (And look hot at the same time.)

And we know that he will save the world several times over as Superman. (And look hot at the same time.)

But could you leave him at home alone with ten children all day? Would your bathroom look like this?

And would he still be hot and sweet? Or would he look like he’s totally losing it, like this?
Sorry Henry Cavill, I think the Hot Man tops your Superman title this week.
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13 comments

  1. My hubby is so much better at all the house stuff too. I choose to think of it as having superior husband picking skills. I'm also hoping to one day make enough money that he'll stay home and be my full time slave.

  2. Aloha Lani. . .maybe it's my naivete as a Hawaii born and raised local girl, but I think it's a Samoan thing. All the Samoan boys I was raised around (including my highly domestic hubby)knew how to cook, clean and watch kids. Mind you, that doesn't mean they all continue on with those skills when they're out of mom and dad's fale, but hey, they skill set is there! I praise my in-laws (who live with me, btw) every time I come home to a son who is fed and washed, a swept floor and dinner on the stove. All hail to the hot men in our lives. . .:)

  3. Yep – got me one of those too, although I think yours could teach mine a thing or two about toilet cleaning by the sounds of it! To all those silly women who faint with surprise when I say my husband is at home looking after the kids … I say HA! They're everywhere … and they're great at it. Watch and weep!

  4. thanks for visiting Delia – I just discovered your blog today and loved the entry about your surgery, had me laughing! I was trying to comment (esp abt the cute doctor Greys Anatomy remark) but your blog wouldnt let me…Defn hail to the hot men!

  5. Maybe it's a novelty thing having the Hot Man around so the kids are being extra good. I'm sure you are appreciated in your own way. It's fantastic that you get to write full time though. In the meantime if the Hot Man has any spare time, can he come over to reorganize my house??

  6. Thanks Lani. . .I'm thrilled that you read my fledgling blog and will seek to fix the 'not able to leave a comment' on my blog thing because,hello!?, I SO want a comment from Lani Wendt Young on my blog-darn you blogspot!!! (please visit again…:)

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