They go something like this:
"Why can't he pick up his own toys?"
"He won't stop crying!!! What do I do?"
"YOUR son just pooped on me. Literally. And it was warm." (I think I just threw up a little in my mouth remembering that. Yech.)
Bring the awesome Daddy that he is, when he gets home from work, he wraps Bjorn in a big ol' Daddy hug and suggests that I go out for a few hours. Window shopping, maybe, or go get a pedicure. Anything just to give Mama a little time away from it all.
I always decline. The evenings are the only times I get to see Daddy, so why would I leave when it would be our time together, too?
Lately, though, I have wondered if maybe I am doing a disservice. Not just to myself, but to Daddy and Bjorn also.
Maybe Bjorn needs his Daddy time - where Daddy can throw him around and wrestle without Mama hovering nearby with some band-aids and the cell phone pre-dialed to the hospital.
Maybe Daddy needs his Bjorn time - where he can figure out on his own how to get him calm. How to change the poopiest overflow diaper and give him a bath. So Daddy can find new toys and games that Bjorn likes.
So they can bond.
I was trying to be a good wife. I know that Daddy is at work all day, working hard to keep us in teething toys and diapers, so I didn't want to burden him when he got home.
But I work all day, too. I make sure we never run out of milk, eggs and meat. I take the toilet paper off the counter and put it on the dispenser. I vacuum the dog hair out of the rugs and teach the Dog to play nicely with babies. I pick the zucchini out of our garden and make zucchini bread for dessert. All this and more.
I am a working mother.
So it's not a burden to him to let him have his son for a little while.
It's a joy.
It's a responsibility.
It's what we signed up for.