I often don’t give my husband the credit he deserves. We make a good team because we fill in each other’s gaps. There’s some stuff he just totally nails, some stuff I totally do. But there’s one thing I really thought I’d rock … and it turns out I very much suck at it.
I’m a terrible school mom.
Weekly folder? Signing stuff? Nap mats? Helping in the classroom? Yeah. Delusional pre-kid Lindsay had all of that in the bag. Real life, universe-pointing-and-laughing-at-her Lindsay fails miserably.
I’ve got the girls’ needs taken care of most days. This is where our zone defense comes into play. My wonderful husband manages just about everything for B to allow me to handle the girls.
He understands, remembers, whatever, why it’s important to empty the backpack every evening. I cannot remember this to save my life.
He makes B’s lunch for him every night. He tolerates the mind-changing and requests for lunchbox items we don’t even stock. Because of this, he is the only one to find the “gifts” of half-eaten smushed orange wrapped in a napkin which has started to leak out of the lunch kit. “I saved it for you, daddy!” Groan. See above.
He thoroughly reads the weekly teacher emails. Somehow I manage to commit my own pet peeve on this one. I do a quick skim and think I’ve got it all down, but without fail, I miss a very important detail. Case in point, they’re having a send off party for the class teddy bear, and the kids are supposed to bring a special stuffed animal to celebrate with the bear. I was totally ready to send “REAL giraffe lovey” (not to be confused with the FAKE spare I purchased in case of emergency two years ago. What is this impostor lovey? What do I take him for, an idiot?). My husband pointed out the very important sentence that said something to the effect of DO NOT SEND THE SECURITY COMFORT ITEMS REQUIRED FOR SURVIVAL ON THE HOMEFRONT ABORT MISSION NOW because the stuffed animals would be spending the night at school. I’m paraphrasing, of course.
Dad knows when crazy sock day is and that we need to send $1 to be able to wear said socks.
Dad understood the desperation the teaching assistant must’ve felt when she resorted to telling B he could only eat his fruit gummies if he ate his rice, so they compromised by putting the gummies in the rice. But hey, he ate the rice, which is more than he eats in a half hour at home thanks to this new awesome nightly dinner time dawdle pickiness wrestling match phase we’re in.
Guess who manages to wash the friggin nap mat every Sunday night at 10:30pm? Not this gal.
He gets B dressed every morning and dodges the kicks and grouchy morning attitude that B
totally got most certainly did not get from me.
Some days, he manages to iron things, make himself look extremely presentable, AND THEN also helps me dress the girls so I can nurse them and get out of the house faster. I still choose to live a life that’s mostly iron-free and dash out of the house in my uniform t-shirt and jeans.
He gets all three kids loaded up and successfully to school on time every day after I’ve left for work.
Maybe it’s because he’s a teacher and he understands the importance of these things enough to prioritize them, or maybe it’s just because he’s awesome, high five to my husband. Not only is he a great dad, he’s a great mom when I fall short. Without him, B would probably be a ragamuffin with a smelly nap mat and boring uniform socks on crazy sock day.
I totally wouldn’t have seen the genius in the gummy rice, either.