My Life as a Wargamer’s Wife

It occurs to me that I am now living in a war zone. My once simple, streamlined life before marriage and motherhood are gone. I no longer pick up a stray item in my house with the intention of putting it in its place. Why? Because I have no idea where it goes. There are two armies vying for occupation in my house: Tamiya and Fisher Price. No word yet on who’s winning, but I can tell you that the war is escalating with each day.

My land was once a peaceful land, with shoes and cosmetics as far as the eye can see. Since the war began, the need for such things has dwindled. I don’t know where it started exactly. My husband’s forces began in the garage, a territory I had no interest in. Seeing a weakness in my submissive behavior, his troops started moving south: the living room, the studyâÂ?¦ his propaganda reached as far south as the guest bathroom, where stacks of gaming manuals can be found next to the toilet.

My son’s army, coming out of the nursery in the south, is advancing north. Excessively large equipment, such as the Jumperoo and the Leap Frog Learning Seat, hasn’t seemed to slow him down. In a few months he will become truly mobilized, no doubt wreaking havoc on my husband’s intricately built model tanksâÂ?¦

âÂ?¦ok, that’s enough of that silly nonsense. I do think my husband’s obsessive wargaming is getting to me, though. He spent hours last night giddily organizing “his troops” into specific units. In other words, he was pulling all of his army men out of their foam-padded boxes, only to be put in different foam-padded boxes. He did this while watching old episodes of “Tour of Duty”, leading me to wonder: How much is too much testosterone?

âÂ?¦ok, that’s enough of that silly nonsense. I do think my husband’s obsessive wargaming is getting to me, though. He spent hours last night giddily organizing “his troops” into specific units. In other words, he was pulling all of his army men out of their foam-padded boxes, only to be put in different foam-padded boxes. He did this while watching old episodes of “Tour of Duty”, leading me to wonder: How much is too much testosterone?