dadvmom

Possessed Henry

 

Kiddos are hard work. It is okay to say that out loud. Like the night when they had the flu AND I had the flu. Hard work. Also disgusting.

Kids are great fun, too. Like the night we turned up “What Does the Fox Say?” and jumped around the living room doing barnyard dances. Even the dog laughed.

But most of the time, moments with children are simultaneously aggravating and funny. It’s all how you look at it. Whether the fart jokes are disgusting or hilarious becomes an exercise in perspective. Like Henry refusing to wear pants this morning. It irritated me because we were supposed to pick Katie up from a sleepover. Instead, my 2-year-old circled the house half-naked yelling, “No Pants! No Pants!” Aggravating? Sure. But funny, too. Just like Katie’s singing at the dinner table yesterday. For whatever reason, for the better part of thirty minutes, she turned all words into song lyrics. Instead of asking me to, “Pass the salt,” it was, “Paaaasss theeee ssssaaaaaalt.” Annoying? Yup. But also funny. Outside of a movie musical or maybe an asylum, who does such things? Only children.

Which leads me to today. Little Lizzie. God bless her. The kid loves pumpkin pie. Not jelly beans. Not cupcakes. Pie. And since we are cooking Thursday’s feast, I thought we should test a recipe or two this weekend. We practiced gravy with the roast chicken, and baked a pie for dessert. The whole house smelled like cinnamon and garlic and butter and love.

It was all Lizzie could do to nibble on her chicken and vegetables, desperately waiting for that pie. While the rest of us were cleaning up dinner, she snuck off and cut herself a slice. The largest slice of pie I have ever seen. It was as big as her head.

When I walked into the dining room, she just sat there looking at me. It was written all over her face. What is Mom going to say? Of course, I was annoyed. While I was scraping plates and loading the dishwasher, she was sneaking dessert. Plus, what kind of child thinks it is okay to just cut into a whole pie? Who does that? I felt a lecture coming on.

But instead, I just looked at her sitting there. She hadn’t even taken a bite yet. She knew it was too big. She knew she should have waited. But the damage was done. And really, what damage? No one was bleeding. It was a pie. And a practice pie at that.

I said, “Lizzie, how come you have your dessert already?”

And she said, “It was an accident.”

So I laughed. I could have grumbled, but I laughed. Because how can you ‘accidentally’ cut pie? She awaited my wrath. And instead, we giggled and ate our dessert. Even though it was annoying, it was also funny. And kind of awesome.

My 5-year-old boldly cut into an entire pie — something I NEVER would have done when I was five. She is brave and fierce and fiery and she makes me crazy sometimes, but man, she also makes me laugh. They all do.  When I see it.  When I let them.

I spent last weekend in Las Vegas with my girlfriends. There were the usual shenanigans — the nightclubs, the Blackjack tables, the midnight selfies by the fountain at the Bellagio.

When I arrived home, a smidgen hungover, I was greeted by the following:

• Dental floss stuck to the iPad

• Crazy glue on the kitchen counter

• Two empty boxes of frozen waffles, presumed eaten

• Two bags of salad greens, untouched

• The vacuum cleaner in pieces in the backyard.

As a stay-at-home mom, I often feel entitled to make fun of my husband. How he can never find anything. How he crams unfolded clothes into already full drawers. How he lets the kids eat toast in the bathtub.

Thus, I was not terribly surprised when I came home to household mayhem. After all, it is not often that my husband is alone for days with all three kids.

What I hadn’t counted on were the other discoveries:

• The garage, cleaned and reorganized

• The kitchen floor, swept of Rice Krispies and dog hair

• The kids’ homework folders, emptied and signed

• Three children wearing the same clothes I left them in two days ago, but happy.

That last one, I actually anticipated. My husband may be unorthodox, but he is a great dad.

I know far too many “put-upon mommies.” Wives who begin every conversation complaining about how useless their husbands are. I hardly ever get to go anywhere. My husband never cooks dinner. This gig is exhausting. I have been guilty of this bellyaching, too.

But here’s the thing — it was half my fault. Maybe more. Because when my spouse did help out, I told him he was doing it wrong:

“Lizzie doesn’t like strawberry jam on her sandwich.”

“You can’t put Tupperware lids on the bottom rack of the dishwasher.”

“Henry gets too hot in that blue onesie.”

“Just let me do it.”

When I did slip out for an evening, I would keep one eye on the phone, dashing off a few texts about where the extra diapers were, or how the baby liked the soft, green blankie best. I would tell my friends, “My husband is babysitting tonight,” and make sure not to be out too late.

But my husband is not a babysitter. These are our children. His and mine. When I’m with them, there are often so many toys on the floor that my husband cannot open the front door. And when it’s his turn, I sometimes come home to Legos glued to the counter. But the kids are all right.

I married my husband because he is smart, funny, and great in the sack. That’s how we ended up with these kids. What would it say about our marriage if I did not trust him to care for them?

Besides, Daddy at home means Mommy gets to play.

Ladies, let’s gather for our own poker nights. Let’s plan more Hen weekends. We don’t all need to go to the pumpkin farm or the children’s museum. Sometimes, Dad can take the kids by himself. He might not pack the same vegetables for a snack. He might need to make a quick stop at Walgreens when the baby poops in the car seat. But he can do it.

Here’s to the husbands out there, the sexy, abundantly capable fellows who won our hearts with their charms, and keep our hearts when they vacuum.

They are the fathers of our children. Let’s let them be Dads.

 

Read more DadvMom on the Huffington Post.

Pumpkin bucket full of candy – 1

Super Henry (with cape) – 0