Sunday, June 21, 2009
Most of the time, I think I can do it all. I am a rock star mommy and I don't need you, you or you to tell me my business. As I sit here at 6:30 a.m. with my 1 1/2-year-old, I am reminded that I don't do it all. I have a partner and he's usually the unlucky bastard who gets up at this ungodly hour every morning with a kid who shouldn't legally be permitted to have this much energy before 9 a.m.
I don't tell him enough, but my husband is a balls-to-the-wall amazing father. Not just because he is an engaged, attentive, loving, fun and sincere with our kids, but because he is not afraid to roll up his sleeves, dig in, and get into the not-so-fun, and often tedious, grunt work of raising them (i.e., he helps mommy not completely lose her noodle).
I have a lot of friends who bitch and moan about their husbands not helping enough with the kids; that they feel marooned on this island inhabited by small, whiny people who spill milk and Cheerios everywhere. Although I can log some complaints about T (don't get me started. I'm determined to be nice on Father's Day), this ain't one of them. The boy works full-time and is our family's primary breadwinner. But, not only does he bring home the bacon, he also throws it in a pan, fries it up and serves it to his family.
He'll wake up in the middle of the night with the kids and suffer through work the next day. He'll institute "Movie Night" for our 4-year-old, complete with popcorn, tickets and theater seating. He'll change diapers and deal with a constipated one-year-old (I'll leave it at that. You don't want details). He'll fold laundry, mow the lawn, and clean the bathroom. He'll vacuum. He'll build forts and wrestle with the kids. He'll read seven Berenstain Bears books in a row -- cheesy voices and all. He'll do dishes. He'll let me boss him around like he's 10 years old and only calls me out if I start talking to him like he's five. He tells our children and me that he loves us above all else -- every day.
So, on his fifth Father's Day, I'd like to say, "Thanks, T." You're the wind beneath my wings, the light in my sky, my eternal flame. There's no one I'd rather be stuck with in this land of never ending Double Wipes than you.
Posted by Rosana V. at 4:50 AM