One of the hardest lessons for me to learn as a mom was that dads do it their own way. My husband is a wonderful father and partner. He’ll help with anything, anytime. He does homework, empties the dishwasher, gives baths. He’s great.
He just doesn’t do it
right, my way, the same as me.
For example, when Maddie was around three years old, I came home from shopping to find her and my husband playing in the yard. I was rather surprised to see Maddie’s hair in ponytails as she came skipping down the driveway to greet me. Typically I would come home to find the girls looking a bit, ummm, disheveled when left home alone with Dad. I was even more surprised when she turned around to skip away and I spied a third ponytail in the back. I looked at my husband with a raised brow.
“The tri-pone,” he stated with a grin. “I invented it.”
I’m currently teaching a class on Tuesday nights. My husband is in charge of daycare pick-up, transportation to and from Girl Scouts, dinner, homework, and baths while I’m gone. I often have the urge to text him around 4:30 to ask Did Maddie make it to Girl Scouts? and again around 6:00 to remind him Don’t forget to check Maddie’s backpack for homework.
But I don’t. He’ll get it done, his way. And I never know what surprise will be awaiting me when I get home…