For those of you new to this site (thanks to all the new BoB-alicious traffic), I should probably tell you that "Laid-Off Dad" is a bit of a misnomer. I began writing this blog under a different URL in June 2003, when Robert had just turned one and the large, corporate stink-palace that signed my checks decided it didn't want to anymore. So they gave me a package and 30 minutes to clear out my desk. A week later, LOD was born.
For 15 months, I worked as a freelancer and funneled most of the money I scraped together directly toward my usurious COBRA payment (since insurance carriers tend to think that if you increase your family size by 50%, your premium should go up by 800%). My wife worked too, and even though making rent was an adventure, we somehow made it work. And I got to spend several quality hours a day with this face.
Overall, a pretty good trade-off.
We sustained this stay-at-home family lifestyle for as long as we could muster. But this was Manhattan, where ATMs think $100 is "fast cash." It soon became time to get another full-time gig—albeit not with another large, corporate stink-palace—and start paying off back rent. (I thought about changing the blog's name, but then I would have been stuck with all these banners.) So now I haul my ass out into the street before sunrise five mornings a week, and the best part of my day is coming home to conversations like this:
Me: "You know what we're going to do this weekend? We're going to take the Christmas tree down."
Robert: "Why do you want to do that?"
Me: "Because Christmas is over."
Me: "And you know what that means? We're going to do a lot of sweeping."
R: [eyes becoming large as golf balls] "I'm going to help you!"
Me: "Absolutely. We're going to need a lot of your help."
R: "OK, but this time I'm a big boy now, so I get to use the big broom with the yellow straws on it."
Not even three, and already bargaining like a champ.