Equitable Parenting

Posted on | January 20, 2010 | No Comments

This morning, my husband was responsible for taking J to daycare. We sat down on Monday night and came up with a plan… I’ll take J Tuesday/Thursday and pick him up Mon/Wed/Fri. Husband will take him Mon/Wed/Fri and pick him up Tues/Thurs. Yes, that’s three mornings for him and two for me and sure that might not be perfectly fair. But I carried J for nine months, so I get the final say.

This morning was the first daycare run for husband because the in-laws were here on Monday. I got up at 7, as usual, fed J and then took my shower and got ready for work. Hubby was supposed to be up at 7:30 to take his shower. Fast forward to 7:45. J has now had his medicine. His clothes are laid out for daycare. I’ve labeled and packed his bottles and put a change of clothes in the diaper bag. He’s had his medicine. In short, I’ve done everything EXCEPT dress him and take him to daycare.

Fast forward to eight o’clock. I am sitting at the kitchen table, dressed and ready to go to work. I’ve fed the dog and taken him outside. I’ve taken out the trash and emptied the diaper genie. The trash can is sitting just outside the kitchen door waiting to be rolled to the street. Finally, husband emerges. He picks up J and heads back to the nursery. I am filling up my water bottle and about to head out to work when I hear “BABY!?!?” I put down the water bottle and start back to the nursery.

Me: “Yeah?”
Him: “How do you put on his onesie?”

Seriously? How do you put on his onesie??? I walk back to the nursery and J is lying on the changing table butt naked giggling. Husband is holding the onesie and staring at me blankly. He tells me he’s afraid he’ll suffocate J by going over the head. I refrain from throttling him and instead show him how to start at the back of the head and pull it over. He laughs and says “well that looks easy.” Then proceeds to have trouble putting J’s arms in the arm holes. I am getting a little frustrated at this point. I swear Husband has dressed our child before. Maybe he’s right… maybe the shirt is getting a little too small? I try. Nope. It fits.

I give J a kiss, kiss Husband and say I’m off. His response? A frightened “you’re leaving???” I just looked at him. Dear, I said, you only have to pull up his pants, put on some socks, strap him into his carseat, grab the diaper bag, and drop him at daycare. You seem able to handle all that.

I really hope J made it to daycare with pants on.

What do you think he would have done if I’d made him do EVERYTHING that I’ve been doing every morning for the past 13 or so weeks?


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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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