Tag Archives: husbands

Defensive dad finally gets it

One of the most amusing things my husband said to me in the last couple of weeks was the following:

Husband: “Is it irrational to feel annoyed when someone points out that my daughter needs something when I’m taking care of her?”

Me: “You just described the central point of about 72% of all posts by moms on kid-related website message boards.”

Husband: “So it’s totally normal then, to feel slightly insulted?”

Me: “Totally.”

Welcome to the club, Dad. Please learn how to use the eye-roll emoticon.

Home again

Now that the party’s over, summer’s over, the “adventures at grandma’s” are over, we are back home in Montreal. We dragged ourselves, our 190 lbs of luggage (avec birthday gifts), our cat, my violin, and my daughter’s little carry-on that she refused to carry-on through a couple airports, a bus, and a subway yesterday. The cat probably had the worst of it. He didn’t even get to use the iPad.

My daughter spent most of the evening revisiting her toys, most of the night upset about her molars, and most of this morning unpacking her new toys. I was VERY curious to see how nap time would go, and here’s the result:

She went down for a nap without ANY NURSING or ANY CRYING for the first time in her life.

It only took 2 years.

I pretty much talked her into it. We got home from the playground and I just started telling her how we were going to go get her Paddington bear and lay down and it was going to be awesome and Paddington was tired too…
I just did not stop talking. I laid her down in her bed, tucked her bear in with her, rubbed her back, and kept whispering “you are very tired, you and Paddington, you both want to take a nap” and things like that.

She gave me this terrible look like she was SO offended/disappointed in me and put her head down. Closed her eyes. Fell asleep.

Ten Minutes.

I emerged from her room to my husband sitting on the sofa with his laptop (read: my husband in his natural habitat) and literally took a bow.

He golf-clapped.

Maybe it’s good to be home?

Husbands and Holidays

You didn't have to carry it 7 miles uphill. Stop complaining.

What is it about holidays that make all the normally well-adjusted husbands I know get completely stubborn and totally useless? If you’re a husband, why are you being like this?

My husband likes to turn Christmas every year into a whine-fest about how he hates the holiday. I get it. He’s an atheist and doesn’t want any thing to do with crazy Christians and their crazy holiday. He isn’t a particularly celebratory person in general. He’d rather watch a movie and eat cheese than do just about anything else.

How I see it is that you can watch movies and eat cheese for Christmas, along with some other stuff. Like decorations, presents, and cookies. I’m not trying to create some “magical” experience. I am just giving my daughter a tradition. She can decide for herself when she’s older what she wants to believe about it. I just want her to have great holiday memories. With cookies.

Last year it was tree drama and present drama. This year I’m expecting 100% good behavior since I think I made my point perfectly clear last year about punching faces if I have to relive that. But I know many husbands out there who aren’t being so aptly threatened and even if they were, would still drag their heels and refuse to get with the program of festive cheer.

In defense of Christmas, all I can say is that it’s really nice to have this one point in the year where you can assemble sweets, cookies, twinkly lights, the smell of pine, the colors red and green, presents, and hopefully get them together with the family and friends you still like.

My Christmas traditions are not that high-maintenance: cookie-baking, tree-decorating, present-buying (and not even that many), stocking-hanging, food-eating, and the annual watching of Dr. Seuss’s “The Grinch.” I know people who enjoy going all-out and I admire their pluck but I’m fine with my list. My daughter won’t remember all of this specifically, but she’s learning and laying down a foundation of holiday-ness in her psyche. Just because she won’t remember this precise Christmas doesn’t mean we should skip it. She’ll still enjoy it and that enjoyment is what will stick with her. When the culture she is growing up in celebrates this time of year, I think it’s appropriate and necessary to give her some way to participate in that. I almost don’t care what the holiday is, just that she has one.

I like many aspects of Christmas just for myself, but more often than that, I’m usually working ahead of time to make it a nice time for the people I’m close to, ergo the presents, cookies, ambience. Isn’t that what it’s about? Making a nice day out of it? My husband would rather the whole holiday didn’t exist. Perhaps his heart is two sizes too small?

To all the husbands out there who are in his club, maybe you should just stop whining about it and accept and enjoy that the holiday is happening. Without packages, boxes, bags. It’s coming all the same.

Shhhh! Secret Father Of The Year

Peacock butterfly (Inachis io) (Lynne Kirton) / CC BY-SA 2.0

Don't Even Think About Fluttering Those Damn Things!

Sometimes, when my husband does something great in terms of being husbandly/fatherly, I am afraid to breathe wrong or in the wrong direction for fear that somehow this would have an effect on some stupid butterfly’s fluttering wings and then all of this new-found wonderfulness disappears without a trace.

I try not to over-thank for fear that he might think that his job is done and he can just relax but I also try not to under-thank for fear that he doesn’t feel appreciated. I wonder if I should mention it to any of my friends because what if that jinxes it? In other words, I completely and utterly over-think it.

Let’s see if maybe acknowledging my husband’s good deeds in the thicket of cyber-weeds will somehow magically positively affect it.

Last night, my husband actually got up with the baby. Shhh! Don’t breathe!  I know, I know it was so awesome. I actually got 6-7 hours of uninterrupted sleep. I feel energized like I’ve just taken whatever drug it is that makes you feel invincible (note to self:  become better at knowing about drug effects so you can make better metaphors).

On the other hand, this morning, my husband was still in bed by the time I left for work sleeping off whatever fun was had last night. (Secret grumble: even after all the bad nights of sleeping, I still have to get up at the same time the next morning and get myself looking perky and ready for gainful employment.)

UPDATE: I was told by husband that a ‘drunk and blind monkey’ could have done a better job diapering than I did last night. Suffice it to say, there were some leakage issues. Which makes his nighttime heroics that much more admirable. In my defense, I literally feel winded chasing our son around the room to try and get a diaper and pajamas on him after his bath. Getting any piece of clothing on him at all is a nightly athletic accomplishment.