How Mommies and Daddies Are Different

This is not a Sex Ed lesson.

About nine months ago, when Macy was trying to kill me using sleep deprivation a newborn, my Mom told me something about Mommies and Daddies.  I was tired, frustrated, in tears, and saying things like "I don't know how I'm going to do this!"  Baby Daddy was on deployment.  My Mom and my Grandma were nearing the end of their time in Virginia helping me adjust to my new baby.  I was madder at Baby Daddy than I have probably ever been for leaving me on my own with a 3-week-old baby.  While I was feeling sorry for myself, my Mom told me, "Tara, having a Daddy around is not the same as having another Mommy.  Men aren't really that helpful."

Seriously.  She was right.

Bath Time: 
Mommy can run the bath water while simultaneously undressing the child AND preventing her from pulling all the toilet paper off the roll.  Then, Mommy can drain the bath tub, put away all the toys, and get the baby dressed without making a huge mess or requiring an extra set of hands.
Daddy? "Hey, are you going to run the water while I get her undressed?  I need you to run the water for me." "Do you want to put lotion on her?  You know I hate lotion."  Also, he can barely drain the tub, much less put the toys away or wring out the wet washcloth so it doesn't mold.  Sometimes he leaves the water in the tub.

Morning Routine:
Mommy gets the baby up and dressed in about five minutes...at 5:30am.
Daddy (at 5:30am, when literally the only thing he can do to help is get her dressed during the 10 minutes it takes me to throw on my uniform and brush my teeth) says, "Let me go to the bathroom first.  Then I'll get her."

Nevermind, Daddy. I'll do it myself.

Sunday Morning Blowout Clean-Up
Daddy asks, "What do you want me to put on her?  She pooped through her jammies."  I tell him to leave her in her diaper, because I am going to feed her breakfast.  He replies, "You mean you don't want me to put clothes on her?"
Really, Daddy?  It is Sunday, which means we are going to church.  She is nine months old, and has recently started INSISTS ON feeding herself.  Do I want her to smear bananas all over her dress?  Um, no.  Leave her in the damn diaper.

Texts About Diapers
Mommy: I'm off to Rite Aid to score cheap diapers.
Daddy: How cheap?
Mommy: 4 bags of Pampers for $24.  Pretty cheap.
Daddy: ...what is the normal price?

And another thing about Daddies?  Babies like them more.  They like everyone more than Mommy.  Mommy is the first person they get pissed at...and the first person they pinch, scratch and bite.

You're welcome, you evil little Cupcake.  It was really annoying that my boobs were all perky and non-stretch-mark-y before.  I'm glad you came along and took care of that for me...and that you apparently think Daddy does all the work.

Coping: The Bittersweet Edition

Today has been one of the best, hardest, saddest, and most bittersweet days of my life.  It actually started out alright.  I managed to sleep in until almost 9:00, which is quite an accomplishment these days.  I might have slept longer, but I made the mistake of letting my furry child sleep with me--thus reinforcing that he has to sleep in the crate.  He woke me up by putting his cold nose on my face an then giving me the "please let me go out and shit" look.  I obliged.  Then I got myself something to eat, and did a few random chores while I waited for Baby Daddy to get home from duty.  


Today was our last day together.  I guess I can't really even call it a day--it was about 5 hours.  But I was determined to make the best of it.  I refused to spend it blubbering and moping.  And let me tell you, I am DAMN proud of myself.  I made it all the way until it was time to leave before there was a single tear--and I had the most amazing 5 hours I've had in a long time.  I don't even know why--we didn't do anything spectacular.  We were lazy and watched TV and snuggled and just enjoyed each other's company.  And it was exactly what I needed today.  That part of my day was wonderful.  The best.


Then the shitty part came.  Oh, it was so shitty.  It's still so shitty.  


This afternoon, I did one of the hardest things I've ever done in 26 years .  I drove the man that I love, the father of my child, my best friend, my soulmate, blahblahblah--insert your favorite cliche here, to the pier, told him Good-Bye, and then watched him walk across the parking lot, down the pier, and out of my site--for SEVEN months.  Tears, people!


So.Many.Tears.


But I'm still alive.  Surprisingly, I think I have cried less today than I have on any of the past 3 or 4 days.  On the way home, I got myself a medium Blizzard with extra chocolate instead of a small, because this was a real doozy.  And you know what?  It only took half of it to soothe me.  Didn't see that coming.  I guess because the anticipation was worse than the actual event.  Until today, I have been feeling like I'm never going to make it through this.  


Today--TODAY I feel like it might be alright.


I came home, read some blogs, and worked on turning this

...into an actual room.  I did a decent job--you can even see the floor now.  And it kept me busy, and kept me from melting into a pile of weeping, blubbering, hormonal, dramatic, pregnant goo on the carpet.  Again--proud of myself!!  Also, very thankful to have my furry kid to keep me company.  He's a really good companion--and a lap dog.

(Please ignore my excellent impression of a 13-year old boy.  My face is revolting, and I haven't figured out how to stop it.)


So for now, I'm coping.  Tonight has turned into an iTunes marathon of "our songs," but it hasn't been sad.  I'm still sad, but I'm trying not to wallow.  If you think of me in passing and you want to say a little prayer that God will keep him safe and bring his boat back in one piece, that would be amazing.  He's pretty important to me.  Thanks.