Today’s Guest Post is written by Nina who blogs at Playground for Parents! Nina is a chocoholic, internet addicted, mother of two, who is determined to save the sanity of parents everywhere. She’s keeps me on the floor, laughing constantly and is a joy to know…On with Nina’s Post!
My latest evidence that babies suck out your brain cells while nursing: the other day, I left the gym, got into my car, and found the music to be annoyingly loud, so I attempted to turn down the volume. It wouldn’t budge. Tried again. Nothing. I’m thinking that I’m going to have to pay some ridiculous sum to get the stupid stereo fixed. And while my car is in the shop, they will of course find another $1000 worth of repairs that MUST be done immediately or I will die. Then it dawned on me – the loud music wasn’t coming from my car stereo. It was coming from the ipod that was still in my ears. That same ipod that I was grooving to in the gym to get me through that ghastly workout, and had forgotten to turn off.
Hopefully, that’s about as dense as I get on lack of sleep and protein. And I’d like to think such moments rarely happen when I’m being mommy. I MAY have forgotten to change the baby’s diaper once…or twice, and by the time I remembered, it was heavy enough to break a toe if it dropped. But, I am otherwise a very responsible, resourceful, diligent parent who makes thoughtful decisions and doesn’t put her children in danger.
Daddy, on the other hand, apparently only skimmed the parenting manuals, even though I highlighted important pages and left the books near the toilet for him to read. There are things that Daddy does that push me to the edge of insanity and leave me wondering how this man ever cared for a pet, let alone himself, before I entered his life and saved him from certain self-destruction. Speaking of caring for pets, Daddy bought our oldest daughter a rabbit this past Easter (so cliche, and so wrong)…without telling me. So, when this rabbit got loose and our daughter was freaked out, crying, and afraid to catch the squirmy little beast, who do you think went outside in the cold damp air wearing pajamas, and with bare feet trying to avoid its little turds, to put the rabbit back in its cage? Mama to the rescue. Then there’s the time that Daddy was cold, so he turned up the thermostat to 90 degrees. With the baby asleep in her room and her door closed. Would he have taken the baby to the gym with him and put her in the sauna? Of course not. Then why would he basically create a sauna out of her bedroom?! Again, mama to the rescue. There’s the time when our daughter was a toddler, and Daddy was helping her after she’d gone potty. When he lifted her pants, he also lifted her legs off the floor…she flipped forward, and landed forehead first SMACK into the marble floor. When I got home, it was Daddy and some little Cyclops creature that greeted me at the door. I rest my case.
But, despite the above (the Lame List could be a lot longer, with numerous funny, frightening, or pitiful examples of Daddy mishaps), I happen to have a great husband and father to my babies. I can easily rattle off the reasons why I’m proud of my kids, besides their ability to entertain themselves while I eat, sleep or shower. And I can actually come up with some pretty cool stuff about Big Papa too. After working a full day, he does all the cooking, and grocery shopping, but lets me come up with the weekly menu. He encourages me to hang out with my mommy friends, and always says the same thing as I walk out the door, “Have fun, take your time, we’re fine.” He takes off work to attend every parent/teacher conference and school performance, volunteers at the school, and tells my daughter stories at bedtime about his childhood. He calls from work just to check in, and asks me to put the phone up to the baby’s ear. And after almost 10 years of marriage, he still reaches out to have his foot touching mine whenever we watch TV. Redemption.
This Lucky List, just like the Lame List, could also be a lot longer.
I’ve learned to let A LOT go. I don’t expect him to do things even close to the way I do them. That would be the “right way,” you know, because it’s my way. However, I do expect him to continue to ignore the parenting manuals in the bathroom. I came to this conclusion a while ago: as long as the kid is still alive at the end of Daddy’s shift, it’s all good (even if he fed her crackers and candy for dinner). And the things he does well count for major make-up points. I’m fond of saying that my oldest daughter is more help with the baby than my husband. But truth be told, I couldn’t do it without that man of mine. Besides, after two kids, he still thinks I’m the hottest chick around. That’s worth A LOT of make-up points.