Why Oh Why?

Can’t I let my husband be a parent?

I have found since Bug’s birth that I simply cannot let him parent without my input. And the rare moments when I do take incredible self-control.

I really don’t know what my problem is. I married a wonderful– no, a stellar man. Seriously ladies, does your husband do the dishes? Mine does. Everyday. That’s right folks. I hate dishes. I loathe dishes. Maybe it’s not so much the dishes. I can wipe them down without a cringe. I cannot stand to put my hands in that dirty water. Bits of food, leftover crust all floating around in a lukewarm soupy mess– GROSS!

Does your husband change diapers? Mine does. He doesn’t mind stuffing the Fuzzi Bunz, he washes them when my hands are full and I haven’t had a chance, he dumps poop… He changed more diapers in the hospital when Bug was born than I did.

The realization just has not struck me (how long will it take?) that he is an incredibly competent father. Sure, he doesn’t do everything the way I do everything, but must I really leave him a detailed list of instructions when I go out baby-less for a while? Does he really need to know that I actually hold her a little more level than that while feeding her? And that I either turn on the heartbeat bear or the mobile when I lay her down, but not both?

Maybe there’s just some mommy hormone (I sure have enough of those) that makes me feel like I inherently know and because his way is different, it’s wrong…

Can you make resolutions after January 1? I want to be better about keeping my mouth closed around my wonderful hunk of a man– he is a good dad after all.

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