First of all, I’d like to thank Shell for having me here today. She is one of the most generous bloggers I have come across and I’m totally in awe of the community she has built around her site.
Today, I think it’s only appropriate that I talk about my husband since Father’s Day is on Sunday. It seems like I have talked about the holiday relentlessly on Mommy Shorts but I have yet to give Mike a proper send-up.
I poke a lot of fun at my husband on my blog. He plays the role of the stereotypical guy who likes to talk about sports and the weather and won’t ask people for directions and wouldn’t know how to put Mazzy (our 1 1/2 year old) down for a nap if he tried. (For the record, every word of that is true.)
But the reason I am allowed to have so much fun at his expense is because THE MAN EATS IT UP. He loves that the posts about him tend to get more traffic (he calls himself a “fan favorite”) and more than once, he has suggested a Mike-central blog topic. Like the time he said I should do a post recording each aspect of our road trip to DC in real time.
8:14am: Mike suggests I do a blog post recording each aspect of our road trip to DC in real time.
8:15am: I ask Mike if he understands that I’m not twiddling my thumbs in the backseat, I’m taking care of a ten month old.
When I started writing Mommy Shorts, Mazzy was about six months old. At the time, I described Mike’s role as pretty limited. He wasn’t breastfeeding (obviously), he avoided changing diapers as much as possible, and he never woke up to tend to the baby in the middle of the night. Of course— he still claimed exhaustion. But the only thing I can figure is that I may have jostled him awake momentarily on the numerous instances I reluctantly got out of bed to do my maternal duties.
The difference between the roles of mother and father were pretty shocking to me. Especially since before the baby, we were equal parts husband and wife. We both had full-time jobs and I was used to us taking care of each other, paying our way and contributing to the household as a team.
But the interesting thing I’ve realized recently, is that as Mazzy grows, the roles begin to even out. For the past few months, it is Mike who is getting up with Mazzy in the morning and feeding her breakfast. And since he has always been the cook (his one atypical “guy’s guy” feature), now that Mazzy eats what we eat, he makes her dinner too. Plus, he’s watched her on his own a few times when I’ve been away. He’ll even send pictures where Mazzy is not only fully dressed but wearing what I can only assume is not the same diaper I put her in before I left.
Also? When I’m away, Mike puts a barrette in Mazzy’s hair just like I do. True, Mazzy is like Baby Captain Caveman without a barrette, but still. The thought of him doing her hair is just too cute for words.
Nine months of pregnancy did it’s fair share to prepare me for the huge responibility of being a mother. But it doesn’t prepare a father in the same way. I think it took the first year of Mazzy’s life to do that.
And now, for the first time, I feel like we are both completely immersed in parenthood.
Equally and together.
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