Today the adoption of our daughter Rosie was finalized. She's felt like our daughter since day one (her day three), but now it's all legal. We celebrated by going out for coffee at a kid-friendly coffee shop. That's the thing about celebrating the adoption of your 8-month old baby - going out all night dancing just isn't an option.

Yesterday Sara had either food poisoning or yet another stomach flu and was relegated to the downstairs bedroom to rest and recover. So I was in charge of the house. It's awfully cliche for the husband to live a day in his wife's shoes and gain great respect for what she does, and since I actually work at home and see most aspects of Sara's day I felt I really understood it. But seeing and doing are two different things, natch, and 24 hours later I can definitively say that I'm not cut out to be a stay-at-home-dad. It was, I grant you, a particularly chaotic and stressful day, but I now suspect they all are.

She's better now. And while I hate retroactively to wish food poisoning on my wife, I also really don't want to think those rumblies in my tumbly are anything but hunger.