We're back this week with Part Two of David's daddy-tastic wisdom!
Last week, I talked about the realization that came to me once I stopped continually correcting my husband on his handling of our child.
What I discovered was that not only did my husband NOT need my constant guidance, as I had imagined, BUT even more surprising, once I actually started to let him parent on his own - I had a thing or two to learn from the guy.
Last week I talked about learning...
LESSON # 1 - CHANGING MY PERSPECTIVE IN THE FACE OF THE IMMOVABLE FORCE THAT IS THE HYSTERICAL SNOOD.
...and this week, the hits just keep on coming!
LESSON #2 - IT IS POSSIBLE THAT THERE IS NO 'RIGHT WAY'
When the Snood was first born, I must confess, I devoted a lot of time and effort to attempting to show David THE RIGHT WAY to parent, which just so happened to be my way. In my defense, it appears that this belief in my own superior parenting skills is one I share with approximately 97 percent of women everywhere (I'm talking to you, lady at Target, who screamed 'That baby needs some juice!' at me when the Snood started coughing in Aisle 23 last week.)
My certainty in this parental infallability was what drove my constant supervision of David in those early days, convinced as I was that
THE BABY WAS TOO COLD!
THE BABY DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN YOU PUT YOUR FACE THAT CLOSE TO HIM!
THE BABY WILL FORGET HOW TO SLEEP FOR THE REST OF FOREVER IF HE DOESN'T GET A NAP RIGHT NOOOOWWW!!!!
As it turned out (perhaps you should now take a moment to prepare for the shocking nature of the following statement) some of my theories were not 100% on point. Once I stopped consta-correcting my husband I was forced to recognize that, in fact, there might be more that one correct way to do things when it came to Snoodie. It also became apparent that David could actually figure out his own style of parenting that was, insane as this may seem, just as valid as my own!
Don't believe me? Just look at the evidence!
Amazingly thought this may seem - those times when David took the baby out without a blanket and Snoodie began to fuss because he was too cold.....David was able to figure out how to come back home and get a blanket! And it helped him learn to bring a blanket the next time, JUST IN CASE!
Need more proof?
Well, it ALSO turns out that even thought I knew EXACTLY the way the baby liked to be held, with a little nag-free time my husband was able to figure out his own way to hold the baby - that also worked!
Yes, my fellow mommies, I come before you today with this most startling of revelations. It would appear based on a whole host of evidence that there IS more than one acceptable way to parent a child!!!
LESSON #3 - I BET THAT'S NOT AS BIG A DEAL AS YOU THINK
(a David-ish lesson that I feel wish I could have mastered earlier)
From time to time, as a mom, I have a tendency to get myself a little crazy:
SNOODIE ISN'T EATING HIS FRUIT - HE'S GOING TO DEVELOP SCURVY!
WHY ISN'T HE SLEEPING?! HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE ASLEEP AT ONE O'CLOCK EVERY DAY!
WHY IS HE FREAKING OUT IN THE CARSEAT? I THOUGHT HE LIKED THE CAR SEAT NOW, WHY IS HE FREAKING OUT???
Inevitably, David puts on his calmest, "Easy now, craz-o" voice and says, "You know, I bet that's not that big a deal."
The new rule in our house is that mommy is not allowed to stress about any Snood-related issue that hasn't been a problem for at least a week. Looking back, I realize I spend way too much time running to parenting advice books, deeply concerned over some weird sleep hiccup, strange eating phase, or bizarre screeching event that I was determined to solve, only to find that within a week said behavior had disappeared entirely.
David, on the other hand, seemed to grasp the changing nature of babyhood immediately and stepped up to a much needed role - the voice of reason. Every home should have one.
All of which brings us to our final, and perhaps most important lesson!
LESSON #4: EMPTYING THE DIAPER GENIE IS MAN'S WORK
OK, let's be clear - this is not so much a lesson that David taught me than it is a lesson I arrived at on my own and imposed upon our household with an iron fist. None of which makes it any less valid.
The fact that my husband is capable of ignoring a plate of half-eaten pizza, moldering on the end table by the couch for days on end, led me to conclude that his personal grossness threshold was higher than my own, and thus he should be in charge of wrestling the dreaded "genie poop snake" out to the curbside cans.
Of all the lessons I've shared today, fellow mommies, I think you'll agree that this may be the greatest of them all.
