Are you really an At Home Dad? Or are you just trying to ”buddy “in with us. You mentioned that it in your greeting but offered no supporting evidence i.e. such as kid’s ages and personal stories to support what you are looking for to make you credible; and that makes me skeptical. Also what with the quotes around the opening “Stay at Home Dads,”? That was not a good we to start off in my opinion as it implies some sort of oddity, but that is all it is, an observation. You may not use of my posted content without my expressed written consent.
If I took an erroneous attitude, sorry.

My Site, http://www.milehidad.com/ and my Blog, http://www.milehighdad.net/
Make Babies, Not War!
I Wanna Know How Forever Feels...

Sorry, Kenny, you come across like a tool.

No way I take the time to write up my AHD stories to hand over to you for your book. If I write up my experiences, they will become my book.

PS -- the market for an SAHD book is prettty small, or else we'd all have one. Not much has changed since Libby's book, or even Peter's for that matter.

Hey JP,

At least now you can masturbate without staining anything!

Thanks for the story.

I would love to write your book for you. May I suggest using the formula Peter describes in his piece on the Time article at http://www.athomedad.com

Also, feel free to use this true story of mine:

About a month after I finally forced my wife into abandoning her children for an assembly-line job at Adam & Steve"s Toy factory, my worst fears about becoming a Mr. Mom were realized. There I was, with baby poop all over my arms and shirt, out in the back yard. I had taken the little monster out there so that I could hose her down. I admit, that I thought about using my new pressure washer at first, but then I decided it might just get all gunked up. So, I opted for the hose and a standard garden spray nozzle.

As soon as the cold water hit her backside, she screamed like a banshee and tried to crawl away. So, in a move that even McGyver would be proud of, I ran in the house and dumped the dirty laundry on the floor so that I could put the basket over her and spray her from the sides. When I got back outside, she had crawled into the neighbor's yard, but I quickly rounded her up and brought her back to the deck.

And, that's when it hit me. As I picked her up, I felt a tingling sensation in my shorts. As soon as I put her under the basket, I reached down into my pants to make sure the family jewels were ok. As I reached for the handful of manhood that I am accustomed to, a cold chill went up my back.

It was just as I had been warned: My balls were shrinking and my penis was retracting. For the next several months, my nightmare dragged on: As my estrogen kept going up with babysitting chores and holding dolls by their hair at arms length, my balls got smaller and smaller and my penis got shorter and shorter. Now, here I am, as f*@ked up as a football bat. My penis has retracted all the way up into my taint, and all I have left is a clitoris and a semi-functioning vagina.

It's been a year, so I guess I am used to it all now. My mother comes over to help me when times get tough. And, I just don't tell anyone about my disappearing penis.

Anyway, I have a few other stories like this. Let me know if they paint the picture you were shooting for.

All the best,
JP

I swear that I had no idea Mr. Troiano was into cockfighting before I wrote my disappearing penis story! http://www.maximustroypublications.com