Summer is finally here. It sort of snuck up on us this year. After weeks of one day in the low 60s and the next in the mid-80s, we’ve started seeing mosquitoes and are appalled at the humidity. Welcome to summer in the south.
Yesterday after eating fajitas on the porch, Tom grabbed the hose and, well, David didn’t need any instructions.
It’s almost Father’s Day, and before that day comes and mandates a Hallmark card, I’d like to say, unprompted by a holiday: Tom is a great dad.
He wakes up with David almost every morning so I can sleep in, then he goes to work, comes home and wrestles with David before reading him books and putting him to bed. Plus, he’s an incredible emotional support system for me and the overwhelming pressures I endure as a stay-at-home mom maintaining a mommy blog.
Tom comes home from work as soon as he can. When he’s home I spend most of my time 1) criticizing him for not helping quickly enough and 2) criticizing him for the way he’s helping.
It goes like this: Tom, can you please wipe David’s hands?…But not like THAT with THAT wash rag and THAT cold water and HIS FACE IS STILL DIRTY!!! I’LL JUST DO IT MYSELF IHAVETODOEVERYTHINGALLTHETIME!!!
I know this flies directly in the face of my role of wife and mother, and I know how terrible this is, so here’s the part where you stop shaking your head and I promise I’m working on it.
(But it’s not like I go to his place of work and leave my shoes in the doorway or open a new cheese ever though there’s already one open.)
Last night was one of those moments. One of those moments when I had to hold my tongue.
Even though David was wearing his clothes.
And I thought Tom was spraying the hose too hard…
And it was a little too close to bedtime…
Every time I said, “NOT SO HARD! TOMNOTATHISFACE!” I was interrupted by a new round of shrieks and giggles.
And David would shout “Mo-mo-mo rain!!”
And even though he can’t say it yet, the look in his eyes said, “Mom, do I have the best daddy or what?”