Today, I’m going to be bitching discussing how gender roles come into play when parenting. Or in simpler terms, Why Daddy always gets to be the good guy.
I’ve always known that my husband was higher up on the fun-o-meter than me. His willingness to act as a human submarine in the pool and ability to hold the children on his shoulders for hours were constant reminders. And for the most part, I’ve always kind of accepted the fact that, well, the kids seem to like him better than me.
I’ve learned the hard way that cooking their food, purchasing their clothes and, oh, what was the other thing? Oh yeah, GIVING BIRTH TO THEM just didn’t hold the same weight as playing Chutes and Ladders twenty times in a row. Or that I didn’t go on the pool slide as much as Daddy while vacationing in Maui. Hmm, is this where I bring up that we WOULDN’T be on vacation if it weren’t for Mommy? Should I mention the hours Mommy spent scouring the internet for those legendary yet impossible to find internet travel bargains? (Well, I *might* have squeezed in a little Facebook time too. But you see my point.)
Not that I don’t spend quality time with the kids-I do. In fact, nothing makes me happier than taking them to the Farmers market or reading their favorite books at bedtime. But I’m never going to build structurally sound tent cities or Lincoln log houses the way my hubby does. Just in the same way that he can barely operate the microwave and starts sweating the minute he’s tasked to purchase items unsupervised at the store. (He learned the hard way why you don’t purchase the fruit with the “manager’s special” sticker on them!)
Don’t get me wrong -I’m incredibly thankful that my husband is a wonderful father. I just wish we could share the glory from all of our hard work. Now I know how the Vice President must feel. Or that guy that only got to host American Idol the first year. Or the people who actually sang those Milli Vanilli songs.
So the next time my daughter tells me that I’m not fun like Daddy because I won’t play Memory a third time, (Which, btw, is more due to an actual lack of memory than playfulness…) I’ll show her this. I like to call it my Mommies needs love too list.
- I’m so happy that you and Daddy had fun playing superheroes all morning. It’s too bad that Mommy’s the one that needs to be burning calories. But the only running Mommy seems to do these days is into Starbucks when she’s late for work.
- I understand that you love playing tee ball with Daddy in the backyard, but does he let you stir the cupcake batter or let you roll the homemade pizza dough like Mommy? On second thought, does Daddy even know how to turn on the oven?
- Yes, it’s so fun to play with Daddy in the pool for hours. But isn’t it nice to have a Mommy doesn’t look like a HOT MESS with her air-dried hair? And on that note, Did you see Mommy’s belly button last time she wore a bikini? Not. Right. At. All. Mommy loves you so much that she was willing to give up ever feeling comfortable in a bathing suit ever again.
- Thank you so much for reminding me that Daddy is PERFECT when I put you to bed last night. I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time we receive a “special gift” for being such loyal customers to Sportsbook.com.
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