Post natal depression for gladdy daddies

I think I have post natal depression! There you go, I have said it and it feels good. My mum claims it is virtually impossible to have children without suffering with it in some form or another. If I am going to do this thing I want the full experience (to this end I have deliberately gone up a jeans size to see if I can go on the atkins and get into the pre-baby skiny Jeans) and at 9.45 this morning I think it started. This morning wasn't so smooth, particularly when you compare it to yesterday morning. Let me run you through yesterday, then today and you will understand why the pnd has hit.

Yesterday morning was perfect, the usual wake up, cup of tea, kids to nursery etc etc. It was while eating rice crispies (thats a lie,they are actually Tesco's krispy rice as I am now not earning) in front of the tv when unexpectedly Erika Eleniak popped out of a cake with her baps out declaring to Stephen Segal "you're not a cook are you"? The fact Under Siege was on at that hour of the morning was an unexpected bonus but also staggering. Have the people at film 4 caught on that there is indeed a nation of gladdy daddies out there all suffering from pnd? Do they think that all we need to kick start the day is a pair of surgically enhanced bohemoth breasts on the t.v? If so they are spot on! The smile could not even be erased from my face by a pile of ironing in front of sky sport news at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Gladdy daddies rock!

Compare and contrast this morning.

Silas wakes with the massive arse ache. When I say arse ache I mean AAAARRRRSSSSEEEEE AAAACCCCCHHHHEEEEE! You know the sort of sound I mean? Think detuned radio drowned out by the sound of a tomahawk jet fighter and you are getting somewhere near. How can such small beings make such large noise? It will be a constant source of fascination to me. Dealing happily with the noise (I am still on a Erika Eleniak high) I proceed to try and get the boys dressed. All the clothes laid out with military precission the night before have gone. I know what has happened, Amanda has moved them.

Do I call her?
No that will be admitting defeat!
Is she testing me?
Yes I think so.
Will she be chuckling to herself somewhere at the thought of me not knowing where they are?
Definately.
Am I getting slightly paranoid?
Possibly.
Is that because I have post natal depression?
Absolutely!

So there you have it, I am suffering from pnd and the reason why is because my wife hid the boys' clothes! I am going to write to the British Medical Journal and see if there has ever been a confirmed case of it in a male and if not, offer my body to medical science for study. At least that way I can earn some money thus getting some self esteem back and hopefully pulling myself out of this slide. Holy hell, only a week in and already struggling!!

According to my mum it is compulsory if so afflicted to move to Boston Lincs, start wearing open toed sandals and drink 2 litre's of whisky ever day (not sure if that is how everyone copes but that is how she said she did). So I am off to Office for some sandals then calling Kirsty and Phil to tell them we are now changing location. I will now be www.bostonhousehusband.com!