Parenting is a tag team event. To the single parents who manage this on their own, my hat is off to you. On any given day, I tag team it with my dear husband. Steve and I had the pleasure of playing "one-on-one" for just shy of two years. Our daughter was watched, washed, followed, cossetted, read to and basically smothered. We never had the chance to try the one kid per adult route. The twins exploded into our world with our surprise, Conner, swiftly following them.
Steve and I joke that we are really good about playing "zone". Any given day of the week, we exchange conversations saturated with planning.
Since Steve leaves the house at 4:30 am, our planning takes place over phones, via text and the occasional facebook post. We sneak in the "I love you" and "how's your day going" as we can.
Steve: Morning, Hunny. What's on your agenda today?
Me: laundry, laundry, after school program and home. How's your day?
Steve: good, work and then a remote. I love you Is there soccer tomorrow?
Me: yes. Soccer at 5 and 5:30. Baseball is day after.
Steve: Need me to start up dinner while you're out?
Julie: I love you.
Now, there are times I might be out at practice with a pouty kid and I pull out the big guns. I use my phone (God bless cell phones) and place the dreaded call to Daddy. At work.
Steve: Son, why did Mommy have to call?
Unnamed child:mumble mumble
Steve: Speak up, if your mother had to stop practice and call me AT WORK, it must have been something...
And then the contrite child will knuckle under and proceed to have a much better attitude with practice, or a game, or homework or chores. I roust through the daily sludge, while Steve tends to be the "clean up" guy. I will be dragging in from soccer, putting away shin guards and cleats, hauling water bottles and thoroughly grumpy, hot and sweaty. Steve has dinner going and a plan to get the kids through homework, showers and bed time.
The times where Steve is out of town, those are the absolute worst. I break so many of my own rules in the name of survival. I admit, times have gotten easier. I don't have diapers, I don't have feedings and sippy cups. I can let them shower by themselves and they honestly do step up and help.
Yet, on any given day, they will all unconsciously know, there is a weakening of the system. They will know at some higher level when the schedule is off kilter, when the gears aren't quite in line...and that is when there is a melt down.
And when I utter those dreadful words:
Want me to call your father? At work?
And how was your day?
