Most American children suffer too much mother and too little father.
~Gloria Steinem, New York Times, 26 August 1971
I want to share a little story about The Papa. I happen to think he is in the running for The World's Best Dad. Benjamin certainly "suffers" father with all the exuberant embraces when Papa returns from work, with bath and bed time routines, with trips to Home Depot and projects around the house, with skateboarding and bike-riding practice, and with working on the new old car. On occasion, this is evident to others.
We were walking out of Costco last week. I pushed the cart and stopped to let the woman at the door check the receipt. Benjamin had done a real doozy in his Pull-ups, so Papa had taken him to the bathroom. He emerged with a fresh diaper and no pants (they were too wet) and damp hands from washing them in the sink. Papa caught up with me at the door, and passed me, zooming Benjamin through the air like an airplane and singing, or something. Benjamin was laughing and chattering away.
Costco Employee: That is a good father. Look at him playing with his boy like that. That's special. Is he always like that?
Mama: Pretty much.
Costco Employee: That's really special. Boys need their daddies.
Mama: I'm lucky to have him.
Costco Employee: Yeah, but he's the real lucky one. (leaning out and looking at Benjamin)
I would say the same. The Papa is one present, patient, exuberant, inclusive, affectionate dad. I am fortunate to be parenting alongside such a man. And I am more in love with him than ever as I witness him emerging as such a fine father.
Showing posts with label quotations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quotations. Show all posts
April 14, 2010
Oh, Erma!
I am thinking about using other people's quotes to start off my reflections on parenting. I did not plan to start this project today, but I couldn't help sharing this one with you:
When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they're finished, I climb out. ~Erma Bombeck
I only have one kid, so why do I relate so well? I also have a needy dog and a husband. My toddler is now noisy, and he like to head butt my legs or hang from the thighs of my pants - you can imagine the shape of my yoga pants these days. My dog likes to stand immediately behind me so that, on the evenings when I am exhaustedly making dinner and not paying due attention to my surroundings, I trip over him. He also stands really close to me and stares when he wants something, or follows me around nipping at my ankles.
Add The Papa into the mix, and on weekends I am running from meal to meal with little time for myself between cleaning the kitchen and starting prep for the next meal. These boys are always hungry. Until two weeks ago, we lived with another two-year-old and a baby for six months. The squabbling that went on between Amal and Benjamin at times was added nuisance. They might as well have been brothers. (And I might be using hyperbole here just a little bit, but goodness if this doesn't feel perfectly accurate on some days!)
There are afternoons where all I can do is sigh loudly, "The creatures will be the death of me!" and shake my bony wrist in the air. But that is nothing compared to the mother of three kids, a dog or two, and a husband. I clearly need more intense training to become one of these Olympian moms.
I can laugh with Erma. I can laugh with my mother, who has admitted she locked herself in the restroom on occasion - not because she had any business to attend to - but because she needed a breather from her three children under the age of six. I can only imagine. And I apologize right now, Mom, for my part in all of that.
So, Mamas, whether you hide in the playpen or the restroom, I hope you get a breather now and then. And maybe we should start off a book club with something by Ms. Bombeck.
When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they're finished, I climb out. ~Erma Bombeck
I only have one kid, so why do I relate so well? I also have a needy dog and a husband. My toddler is now noisy, and he like to head butt my legs or hang from the thighs of my pants - you can imagine the shape of my yoga pants these days. My dog likes to stand immediately behind me so that, on the evenings when I am exhaustedly making dinner and not paying due attention to my surroundings, I trip over him. He also stands really close to me and stares when he wants something, or follows me around nipping at my ankles.
Add The Papa into the mix, and on weekends I am running from meal to meal with little time for myself between cleaning the kitchen and starting prep for the next meal. These boys are always hungry. Until two weeks ago, we lived with another two-year-old and a baby for six months. The squabbling that went on between Amal and Benjamin at times was added nuisance. They might as well have been brothers. (And I might be using hyperbole here just a little bit, but goodness if this doesn't feel perfectly accurate on some days!)
There are afternoons where all I can do is sigh loudly, "The creatures will be the death of me!" and shake my bony wrist in the air. But that is nothing compared to the mother of three kids, a dog or two, and a husband. I clearly need more intense training to become one of these Olympian moms.
I can laugh with Erma. I can laugh with my mother, who has admitted she locked herself in the restroom on occasion - not because she had any business to attend to - but because she needed a breather from her three children under the age of six. I can only imagine. And I apologize right now, Mom, for my part in all of that.
So, Mamas, whether you hide in the playpen or the restroom, I hope you get a breather now and then. And maybe we should start off a book club with something by Ms. Bombeck.
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