What Would Paul Do

Another day, another night spent on the timeout couch. This time, I got in trouble over the range of food selection I’ve been offering the wife when we’d go out to eat. Whenever she asks what we should eat for dinner, I usually suggest convenient, cheap, unhealthy options to her. 

To me, food is just food. It goes in one hole and comes out the other. A $30 meal ends up the same way a $5 meal does – out my ass and down the toilet. I’m not a picky eater. As long as it makes me full and doesn’t give me diarrhea, I’m OK with it. 

I guess I hadn’t really thought that this was the stuff our baby was taking in. The wife said this reflected a lack of respect towards her and the baby. I should have been offering healthier choices to my wife and our baby. I might be completely happy and satisfied with the dollar menu at McDonald’s, but other people (meaning my wife and maybe our baby) might not feel the same way, and I have to be attuned to their feelings and stomachs, too.

I wake up with another crick in my neck. I’m like Paul in the Bible, and the crick is the thorn in my flesh. It’s a reminder of all the stupid things I’ve said and done to earn my punishment. I stay humble and grateful for everything I have because of my crick.