When Dads DO Parenting

It took me a while to trust Marvin to be a dad. I know that sounds kind of crappy. It sounds like Marvin needed my babysitting or hand holding when it comes to our kids. I don't mean it like that. I don't mean I didn't trust him to handle things properly. I mean that it took me a long time to trust that Marvin could be a dad (a REAL dad) and still love me. That he would still love us and want to come home after work. That he could see the hard, do the hard, LIVE in the hard and still choose us.

I had good intentions. I knew how hard parenting was. Real parenting. It was exhausting and messy and constant and I wanted to save him from that. I had to save him because surely he could only love us if life was easy and we didn't ask much of him. He couldn't love us through the ugly. And parenting IS ugly. We're not talking drive-by parenting here (where the dad comes home and gets to kiss freshly washed children and throw them around a bit and then send them off to bed and call it a day). Real parenting. Parenting in which the kids are fighting and no one wants to eat what I've cooked for dinner and there's wet, dirty clothes every where and mom is heading out the door because (as I was shocked to learn) moms ARE allowed to leave sometimes-- even GOOD moms! In real parenting Dad is there to step in. Really step in. He can do homework and bath time and the feeding and the rocking and the breaking up of fights. He can do it all. Because, you know what? They're his kids too.

REAL parenting was only for me. I could handle real parenting. I could do the hard and still love my family. 

My thought process had little to do with Marvin and everything to do with my insecurities. We all have issues from our past that we carry into our current relationships and friendships. My insecurity was waiting. I was always waiting. Waiting to meet the real Marvin. Waiting to see a glimpse of the Marvin who had a secret life or cheats or hates his family or or or. That's the way my brain works. There's no way a human being that good and that kind and that CUTE could really love me. All of me. The bad me. The moody me. I wasn't worthy of that kind of love. Eventually the other shoe would drop and I'd be all alone and it would be all my fault because I'm too much and "can you really blame the poor guy"?

So, I hid. I didn't hide the crazy me or the moody me. That would be way too hard to do. I'm too impulsive to hide those parts of myself. I hid parenting away. It was all mine. He wasn't invited to parenting. He couldn't handle it AND love me AND stay. It was solely my job. 

Having parenting all for myself served me well. You see, if I was the only one doing REAL parenting then I was the only one who could have REAL parenting tantrums. Real parenting tantrums are the tantrums where you lock yourself in your room or bathroom or wherever after a long and dramatic monologue entitled "How Much I Do and How Little I am Appreciated". It was a self esteem boost. "Look at how much I do! Look at how much I juggle. See! I AM a good mom! Now give me a break. I deserve it." And, maaaan, I needed that self esteem boost because I always seemed to be one mistake away from ruining my children. One mistake away from being a "bad mom".

I noticed that the dads that did real parenting were worshiped. For moms, real parenting is expected. It's our responsibility. No one freaks out when a mother brings her kids to the grocery store. That's part of her job. It's not even a fancy part of her job. It's the bare minimum. No one even gives it a second thought. That's a Tuesday. Now, if your kids are perfect robots and you're dressed in real people clothes and you have make up on and smiling children with manners in your midst you may get a smile or two from fellow shoppers but that's where it usually ends for moms. However, if a dad brings a child to the store or even (gasp) more than one child people lose their ever loving minds. I wasn't going to allow people to fan over him. I was doing the hard. I was the one that needed all the credit. I needed everyone to think I did it all and, more importantly, that I did it all well. 

If Marvin did real parenting then I would be vulnerable to judgment. Judgment I wasn't ready for or strong enough or secure enough to handle. You see, him DOING takes away from me. When he's seen being a father, when he's seen doing, people are quick to wonder why I'm not doing. Surely the mothers-in-law of the world would make comments about how their husbands never helped in that way. Those women did it all. Without a problem. Their baseboards were always clean and their kids' clothes were always ironed--with pleats nonetheless and they had no one to thank but themselves, thankyaverymuch! They would always make sure to say how lucky I was. Always the word "lucky". If they said the word "lucky" their comment was disguised as a compliment--it no longer sounded like a dis.

I loved being able to have the "your husband does WHAT?" conversation with my friends or (sadly) even with strangers. "My husband can't even make toast, yours cooks?" This is a conversation where we compare and contrast what our husband does (or, really, doesn't do) against the other husbands in the world so we can feel better about how we're doing more than most. It's a stab at the men in our lives, but it's not even really about them. It's about us. We use them so that we can feel better about ourselves. About how much we do. Why? Because doing more means caring more. And caring more means being a good mom. And at the end of the day we all just want to be good moms. 

Allowing Marvin to be a dad would mean a hit to my pride and letting go of the need to always be right. You see, when you're the only one doing parenting you have the final say. You decide what's good and what's bad for your kids. You lead the way. It's easy to do parenting with only your opinion to consider. 

Kids tend to learn real quick which one of you is doing parenting. There's trust there-trust that's been built. It's an unspoken rule: "The real parent can answer these questions and can help me with whatever I might need. The real parent knows the rules. The real parent is the boss--even of the other parent." 

Once I invited Marvin into real parenting my love for him grew. The kids' affection for him and trust in him grew and I'm fairly certain his love for us grew. Marvin is now invited into decision making. What should we do with Dane's speech issue? Should I bring Juliet to the doctor for this rash? Should Elaina play basketball in Lake Charles or Sulphur? These are real questions I ask now. Before they were conversation fillers. They were questions I asked out loud to him, but only so I could weigh the pros and cons of my own thoughts against one another.

I learned so many things after Marvin joined real parenting. I learned he shouldn't have had to be invited by me afterall. He had a right. And I was taking his right from him. I was unfairly putting myself in a position of power. I was also cheating my kids out of another perspective--out of a real relationship with their dad. "Man, who is the only creature on earth that God willed for its own sake, cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of self." (Mulieris Dignitatem) I was keeping him from making a sincere gift of self to our children and thereby keeping him from growth, from knowing himself. Parenting is a partnership. Two brains are better than one. (Even when I'm one of the brains involved.) Surprisingly, my ideas are not always the best ideas. There's more than one way to do things. My way is not always the right way. These realizations were groundbreaking in our home. Groundbreaking and necessary and long overdue. I was definitely thrown off my high horse.

It turned out, I wasn't doing anyone any favors. Not Marvin and not myself and certainly not the kids. I was cheating Marvin out of parenting. Cheating him. I wasn't saving him at all. I was robbing him, robbing everyone out of real, hard, pure love. Love is hard. It isn't always easy, in fact, it's rarely ever easy in the ways that count. Things worth doing are often hard. I'm lucky (see, I use that word too!) that I'm married to a man so willing to jump completely into parenting. I needed to stop holding him back. I needed to move myself out of the way to allow Marvin to really get to know the kids and to allow the kids to really trust Marvin. 

To experience real love, to really love someone, you have to allow yourself to be loved. That was a tough lesson that I'm still working on learning. I don't have it all figured out. Not even close. I am a work in progress.

Now and then I'm still guilty of downplaying what Marvin does and up-selling what I do. I still find myself comparing him to other dads and husbands. I still let the wrong comment slip from time to time. My mouth always works faster than my brain and my tact. 

I've realized people (at least during my lifetime) will probably always praise men as fathers and husbands for doing just a little bit more than the bare minimum. It's not an attack against me or my motherhood. It's just genuine surprise. Not every guy is the same and some women (even after inviting and inviting and begging and re-inviting) are met with partners who do not wish to take part in real parenting. When these women use the word "lucky" they genuinely mean lucky. They're serving as a reminder (maybe a Divine reminder?) to be grateful for what we have. A little appreciation goes a long way--we've learned that through experience, haven't we?

We should not be comparing our husbands. We just shouldn't. We have to stop doing this--let's agree right now. Can you imagine if guys got together and in front of our FACES dissed us (like we tend to do)? Or compared what we do with what another mother or wife does? (God forbid that mother be HIS mother. Those are fighting words!) If it's not ok and if it's not nice for them then it shouldn't be ok for us, right?

Like with any change, when you take a long-standing dynamic and decide to tweak it there may be some push back. If you go from handling all-the-things to needing or asking for help there will likely be confusion. Be patient. Ask. They don't always know. I know that's mind boggling for us. "How can they NOT know?" But, it's true. I've learned it may take a while for the anticipation of the need to come into play with dads, but it'll come and it'll come faster when he's built up rather than torn down. When they jump in and help and anticipate your needs or the needs of the family DON'T criticize the way they're helping. Bite your tongue. Write it down and then throw it away. Set a timer and don't talk until the timer dings. Do whatever you need to do, but keep your pie hole shut. Walking on egg shells is not a good way for him to learn initiative. He will figure out his way (not YOUR way, HIS way). Just like you had to figure it out. It takes time and patience. Be patient.

Change is hard. Relinquishing control is hard. Opening yourself to criticism is hard. Being vulnerable is hard. But, things worth doing are sometimes (often?) hard. Your children deserve two parents doing parenting. Don't let your insecurities, expectations, fears or need for perfection rob them of that. It's not your place.

Wrapping up 2014

I haven't written a new blog post in quite a while, but that's mostly because I've been as sick as a dog. Like, so sick that I was starting to get depressed. I couldn't see the end. I'm out of it now, and it's glooooorious! I forgot how awesome it felt to feel normal!

People say "every pregnancy is different" and you kind of roll your eyes and expect more of the same (especially if this is your third go round), but this time has been SO different. I won't be surprised if the rest of my pregnancy throws me for a loop as well. I have a feeling this baby is a little trouble maker. 

Anyway, I'm sure I've written about the "phase" phenomena in other blog posts, but I'll go ahead and bring it up just in case you missed it. I've found that motherhood goes in phases. You go through "super hard, cry your eyes out, failing at life" phases and then you go through "this is cake, let's have a million kids, I am woman hear me roar" phases. I think a while back I wrote a blog post about how 2 kids was cake. I was going through a particularly awesome phase. They played nicely. I was happy. They were reasonable. It was wonderful. And then came this whirlwind of a pregnancy. And then things weren't easy. Everything was hard. Everything made me throw up. It's hard to see the rainbow when the rain is pouring all around you.

It was a nice little epiphany when Marvin and I discovered the phase thing a while back. It helps because when we're going through a particularly hard time with the kids or finances or life and one of us is having a hard time seeing the positive the other one is there to remind you "it's just a phase". 

2014 was a nice year. They've all been particularly nice since 2009 when I met the man I was going to marry. He makes life better and happier and easier. I go through moments where I am amazed that he is really THIS great and I am really THIS lucky. 

We kept a "Most Memorable Moments of 2014" jar and filled it with scribbled little pieces of paper containing our favorite memories. I found myself reading them and thinking "Wait, that was this year? It feels like FOREVER ago". I thought it would be nice to share a few of my favorites (the quotes are funny things Elaina said):

January 16th: "I like to punch people." & "I fell like a mermaid." (after flopping out of her chair)

February 3rd: Mom gets offered a job

February 5th: While out in public a sweet stranger took the time to compliment me on my patience and tell me that I was a good mom. (It brought tears to my eyes.)

February 8th: "I wish I was a coffee pot."

February 18th: 9 month old Dane slept through the night for the FIRST TIME EVER!

April 19th: The best dad I've ever met spent a sweaty, mosquito afternoon putting together his daughter's swingset

April 29th: Dane finally drinks out of SOMETHING that isn't his mother

May 8th: Dane's last time nursing. YAYYYYY!

May 9th: "We gotta buy a new baby cause Dane keeps YELLING!"

May 31st: Elaina catches a nasty stomach bug and we're forced to cancel Dane's 1st birthday

June 2nd: Elaina teaches Dane to say "no" and "ball" in 10 seconds (after Mom tries for MONTHS to no avail)

July 13th: Dane starts taking steps and Elaina is BEYOND excited!

August: Mom gets a second job!

Oct 4th: Mom and Dad find out baby #3 is on the way (and manage to keep it secret for 3 weeks)

Nov 7th: "Hello baby, I understand you're in Mom's belly?"

Nov 16th: Marvin develops the van wave

Nov 16th: What if the baby is a boy? "It's NOT! She told me!"

In 2015 Marvin and I will witness our godchild's baptism (still can't believe someone picked ME! what an honor), Marvin and I will celebrate 4 years of marriage, I'll get to party (pregnant woman style) for one of my oldest friend's bachelorette party, one of my favorite couples will get married, we'll welcome another sweet soul into our family and my very first baby will turn FIVE (crazy). Wishing you and yours a Happy New Year! 

"Mom, I'm hungwee."

This won't make sense to many of you. If you have zero children or only one small, non talking child, or if, by some miracle, your child doesn't do this (or you are a more patient person than I am) then you'll wonder why I'm getting my panties in a bunch over something so insignificant, but it's real. It's a thing. I know it is because I've seen my friends gripe about it.

Kids ask to eat. ALOT. Now, duh, we are human and we need food to survive. But, it's something so much bigger than this. It's something so infuriating and annoying. It's something that unless you have experienced it, it will make no sense to you.

You have a baby and the baby has instincts. Your baby cries when she's tired or when she has a dirty diaper or when she's HUNGRY. You nurse or bottle feed the baby. The baby drinks until she is no longer hungry. The end. It's really a beautiful process that you don't have the forethought to enjoy properly. Then a monkey wrench gets thrown in. Your world gets rocked. The kid grows up and TALKS (trust, this is not a good thing) and asks for food TWENTY FOUR SEVEN. Constant. No matter what you're doing. No matter where you are. Your child is starving at all times. They are going to die if you don't stop what you're doing NOW and get them food. Then you go through the process that is feeding a kid. And, trust me, it's a process. It's not like when your baby is hungry: get bottle, mix formula, sit down and put bottle in baby's mouth. Nope. It's not like that. You have to go to the kitchen (which you JUST FREAKING CLEANED) and play "what do you want to eat" with the kid. You offer 3 healthy options which you KNOW your kid likes. Your kid asks for the thing you didn't offer. You redirect and reoffer the 3 things again. The kid reasks for something not on the list. You go 'round one or two more times before you have the "these are your options, you can have one of these or nothing" talk. Your kid rolls their eyes at you because they're your kid and payback is funny. Your kid resigns and asks for one of the three approved options.

You search for a kid friendly plate. You prepare the food. You put the food in front of the child who is now seated at the dinner table. The child asks for a drink. You prepare a drink for the child. (I could take some time to go into the mess that is "the special cup", but I won't because of time purposes and because I don't know that I can handle my blood pressure shooting through the roof.) So, your child is seated with their food and their drink and they take one bite of whatever it is you gave them and then they get up and go about their business. One bite. That's it. The kid that was starving is now full. One bite. This happens roughly 15 times a day. Your child literally enjoys seeing you fall apart when they ask for food. They think it's hilarious that you have conversations with them about "not wasting" and "finishing everything on your plate first until you ask if you can have something else" as if ANYTHING is ever going to change! This is what you do all day long. All. day. long. Now, if you had nothing to do all day besides prepare, serve and clean up food all day this would be no big deal (if we take the waste factor out), but you have things to do and so this rocks you to your core. 

WHY MUST THEY. WHY. I told Elaina the other day that I die a little inside every time she says the words "I'm hungry". Yep. I told that to my not-quite 4 year old. Am I proud of it? No, but it's exactly what happens. A piece of me dies every time I hear that sentence come out of her mouth. If I were to offer up the physical pain that it causes me to hear "Mom, can I have a snack?" for the souls in purgatory, heaven would be flooded. Ha. That's how big it feels to me. Truly. 

It's not just about having to DO STUFF for your child. It's not just about having to stop what I'm doing to cater to the kid I birthed. It's about the LIE. YOU ARE NOT HUNGRY, you small dictator. You aren't! Because if you were you wouldn't waste so much darn food. All day. Every day. It's the same. Always. "I will not waste my valuable time preparing food for you that you are not going to eat. It is a slap in the face to me. It says that you do not value my time. It infuriates me," said Diana to her kid. And, with a blank stare and a sneaky freaking grin the kid responded, "so, I can't have a stawberry is what you're saying?".



(Disclaimer: I like to find humor in kid things. I hope to write things that you relate to or that you find funny or that prepare you for the crap you're about to go through. Please know that I KNOW I am lucky! I truly do! But, if I sat here writing every day about how beautiful and fulfilling and magical my life is (and it is!!) then it wouldn't be my blog! Please keep this in mind when you read my posts. If you don't know me in real life, then it's hard to read things in Dianaese, but just know, it's all in jest, my friend.)

Life With Two

I haven't updated this in a while. My last entry was about Dane's birth and now he's a toddler who waddles around yelling. I haven't updated partly because two kids rocked my world and partly because I have nothing witty to say. Y'all know I think pregnancy sucks. It's hard. I feel ugly and fat. I could go on, but I have several blog posts dedicated to complaining about pregnancy which you can reference (if you feel the need to hear someone complain about the greatest gift women are given). Pregnancy was easy to write about and make funny. Life with kids. No. I distinctly remember a time when if ONE person in our family got a bath it was a good day.  My kids went days without taking a bath. Literally. Because I could not wrap my head around the mechanics of getting both kids (happily and safely) clean. Two kids was..... a transition. Elaina was a normal human being when we decided to introduce a non-normal human being into our family. She used the bathroom on her own. She used words. She slept when normal humans sleep. She ate normal human food. She drank out of normal human cups. It was a breeze. We were living the life. And then we threw a baby in the mix. 

I don't know if most people have their world rocked when they introduce a new baby into their already-kid-infested home, but I did. Dane drank out of nothing that was not a breast. Nothing. For 11 months. Let that sink in. NOTHING. So, I had two options: stay inside my 1100 square foot house with two kids like a hermit or go out into the world and nurse in public. I know that someone out there is thinking that I must not have tried. I know you're thinking YOU could have had him taking a bottle. Let's pause here for a moment and discuss. Do you have one or less children? If so, I was you. I was SO you. I thought I knew everything. I was Judgy McJudgerpants. You probably know this from reading my blog. I truly thought I could solve all problems, and then I had a second child and McDonald's became an acceptable meal. I offered Dane a bottle at 9 weeks to see how he would do. He took it. Then, around 4 months, my best friend decided to have a bachelorette party in New Orleans. I tried to give Dane a bottle before I left, and he took it fine. And then I left him with his dad for 24 hours and he went on a hunger strike. Literally. He did not drink a thing for the entire time I was gone. Now, think about this, the kid is 4 months old, and for an entire day refused to drink anything. So, the theory about "if he gets hungry enough, he'll take a bottle" is completely thrown out the window. He didn't drink out of anything. It was hard. 

Elaina had a rough time transitioning as well. She was never unkind or angry towards Dane. She loved him from the very beginning, but she hated me. Truly. For 2.5 years it was just she and I and she was accustomed to life where she was the center of my world, and then Dane was born. There was a while at the beginning that I cried to my mom or Marvin about how she hated me, and, at the same time, I didn't want her to like me. It's weird, and I'm not sure everyone experiences it, but the best way to explain having two kids (to me) is: You spend your entire pregnancy worried that you won't love the new baby as much, worried that your older child will feel left out, trying --at every moment-- to include the older child in things so they don't feel excluded, and then your second child is born and you want to lock yourself and the baby in your room away from the older child and just rock and love and be away from irrational children who purposely yell and ruin naptimes. You want to scream when you're nursing a baby to sleep and a toddler needs something to eat NOW! Anyway, it was a transition. It was hard. A baby and a toddler both needing my attention and love and needing, needing, needing. 

How is life with two now? E-A-S-Y. I know I've played the "Being a SAHM is such a hard job" song a time or two, but not anymore. Life with two kids is easy! Truly. I don't write this to be all "my life is so easy, you must be doing it wrong if yours isn't", but more for those of who you who may be in the trenches of the two kid transition and you're wondering if you can trade in your older child for a different model. I've been there, but it gets better. I'm going to go as far as saying two kids (in our house) is easier than one kid. The kids play. They laugh. They eat together. They watch movies together. They sleep at the same time. Elaina loves her little brother. She is always kind to him (me? that's another story for another day). She helps me. If he's sad she cheers him up. She teaches him things. He looks up to her. He follows her around like a little puppy. He lets her ride him like a horse. He thinks everything she does is amazing and funny. It's a breeze. Truly. They spend the majority of their day playing with one another, and allow me to clean and cook and all that jazz.  

Apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment. I decided that my life was moving so smoothly that I should teach 5th grade CCD classes, teach Spanish to preschoolers and get a career coaching job at a local high school. So, I'm going from 100% SAHM to a SAHMish who works and needs the help of her wonderful in laws for childcare. So, here's to a new chapter. Here's to a challenge. To an adjustment. I'll keep you posted on how life is with two kids and three jobs. Should be interesting.

Stay at Home Moms vs Working Moms

When Elaina was born, I remember wondering what I did with my life for the 23 years before.  Not in the "Oh my, my life is so beautifully complete now; those previous years were a waste" type of a way.  But, in the "Oh my gosh, this crap is HARD.  Why haven't I been enjoying the easy years before?!?" type of way.  I used to joke with Marvin that I wish I had been more irresponsible with my life before having children.  "Gah, why didn't I do drugs or something?"  I mean, of course, I was kidding, but I realized that this was a new phase of my life, and the time for shenanigans was mostly over.

When you're pregnant, people give you the MOST ANNOYING advice ever.  I guess they feel like you're about to join their club and they want to give you a heads up about what's coming next.  If you get through your entire pregnancy without hearing "Sleep now while you still can!" then you must be living under a rock.  I used to hate hearing that.  It sounds so..... negative.  It's almost like they're excited that you don't even know what you're about to get yourself into.  And, plus, you'll hear it a million times.  It gets old.  But, it's SO TRUE.  

For Elaina's first few weeks she ate every two hours.  That means from the beginning of one feeding to the beginning of another.  So, let's break it down:  let's say it's 1:00 and it's time for her to eat.  Ok, so I change her diaper and position her and myself in a chair for her to eat.  She eats from each side for about 7 minutes and then burps.  Then I get her to fall asleep.  By this time it is 1:25.  I try to take a nap because I'm exhausted.  I fall asleep at around 1:35 and am promptly awaken by a hungry baby at 3:00.  So, I slept for a solid hour and a half.  Now, this is assuming that I used the in-between time to sleep.  You can't (unfortunately) just lay in bed all day and sleep and nurse your kid.  You have a house to take care of.  You have yourself and your husband to feed.  You have to dress yourself and your baby and change (A LOT of) diapers.  You have doctor's appointments.  You have visitors that want to see the new baby.

The first time your child sleeps for a 4 hour or 5 hour stretch (it feels like forever) you want to cry you are so excited that you got uninterrupted sleep.

I remember a few times Marvin was getting ready to go to work and I was sitting up in bed feeding Elaina with tears streaming down my eyes.  I was crying because I was just. so. tired.  I was so jealous that he didn't have to wake up three million times in the middle of the night (I was breastfeeding, so he couldn't truly help) and he "got" to go to work.  It's irrational and crazy, but it's how I felt.  

I posted a Facebook status about how silly I was to think I was "exhausted" before having a baby.  People were offended.  How dare I say you can't be exhausted unless you have a baby?  They went to school and had a job.  They had crazy hours.  They barely slept.  I was amazed at how much controversy came from me venting about having a hard time in my mothering transition.  I spoke to other mothers to try to get some support about the fact that I was TIRED and this was HARD.  They said things like "at least you don't have to go to work".  They didn't even notice they were being dismissive.  They didn't even realize they were inadvertently saying "you think YOU have it tough? try being a mom AND having a job, now THAT'S tough".  I didn't understand.  It wasn't a pissing contest.  Both "jobs" have pros and cons.  Staying home (in my opinion) isn't the easier choice.  Working away from home (in my opinion) isn't the easier choice.  They are just..... different.  

The stay at home moms aren't laying around in their pjs watching TV and getting pedicures in their spare time. They aren't twiddling their thumbs.  They aren't going on fab shopping sprees and meeting friends for drinks.  The working moms aren't at work without a care in the world.  They aren't having fabulous convos with their co workers and not having to worry about their children.  They aren't coming home from work refreshed and full of outside stimulation.  Both jobs are hard.  They are hard in different ways.

The grass isn't necessarily greener on the other side.  Maybe you've tried out both jobs and you find one is easier FOR YOU.  Maybe you can't imagine doing one or the other.  You make decisions for your family.  You choose which job you think is right for your family.  That doesn't mean you have to belittle the other side.  It doesn't mean the other side has it easier. 

My friends tell me the transition from one child to two children is EASIER than the becoming-a-first-time-mom transition.  They say it's because you are already past the "my life will never be the same" shock.  You already live your life thinking about someone else first.  You already can't shower or pee alone.  You already aren't living carefree.  Life is already different.  You are already in charge of keeping another human being alive and healthy.  It just get a teeny bit more complicated with a second child in the mix.  I hope they're right because the first time it was HARD.