I adore my husband. He’s my man, my love, my best friend. He leads our family in amazing ways. He can do math in his head, mow the yard in 30 minutes flat and still holds a school record on the still rings. He’s a stud! I’m not giving him up no matter what. He is one of the best daddies ever. He and Brynna have a love relationship like I’ve never seen. He enters a room and they both light up. He is not, however, a mom.
There is a reason boys aren’t moms…
We decided we’d pierce Brynna’s ears while she’s a baby. I was out of town when I learned she was old enough. David suggested I pierce them before we get back to Dallas so he didn’t have to watch. I can’t wait til she needs a bone reset or something. I’ll be on my own.
Yesterday Brynna was in her highchair. She had eaten food but was ready for her bottle. (I have no idea where her impatience comes from!) I asked my brother to hold her while I made the bottle. He went to pick her up but didn’t move the tray. She was half-standing, half-sitting, all the way stuck. So they stood just like that until I came and removed the tray. I’m not sure how long they would have stood looking at each other.
After church last night, David and Brynna went home while I finished up. I got home and he was tucking her in to bed. I asked where Aubie was. (Aubie is her lovey/woobie/stuffed tiger she’s never without.) He looked at me with a blank stare and said, “I didn’t know I was supposed to get Aubie.” I figured it was in the diaper bag, but couldn’t find it. When I asked where the bag was, the blank stare crept back over his face and he said, “I didn’t know I was supposed to get the bag.” At this point, I checked to make sure we had gotten home with the right child.
We’ve entered the world of baby food. It’s been a couple of months, but she still turns her nose up at veggies sometimes. Like most babies, Brynna would prefer to eat the sweet fruits and no veggies. And like most daddies, David would gladly give her whatever she wants. I’m envisioning the day she wants candy for dinner and I have two pouty faces looking at me.
The blue bulb. It’s a commonly used tool by moms and medical professionals alike. When seen at our house, however, it is viewed as a form of torture and avoided at all costs. Not by the child. By her daddy. I have to clean her nose when he’s not in the room because if he is, after each time, he says, “Ok, that’s enough. You got it. You don’t need to do anymore.”
One weekend when Brynna Grace was about 2 months old, David offered to take care of her for the night to let me sleep. (Reason 769 why I love him!) She started to cry in the middle of the night for her feeding. He didn’t get up immediately, so I woke him. He told me he had it handled and to go back to sleep. He then took his own advice and WENT BACK TO SLEEP! I woke him 15 minutes later and he got up to feed her. The next morning, she woke up ready to eat again. Once again, Daddy didn’t wake up immediately so I woke him. He told me to stop worrying, he had it handled. (Crazy me! What was I thinking?) He then promptly fell back asleep and I got up and fed Brynna while Daddy recovered from his long night of mommy-duty.
God designed us differently. And one of those differences is…boys are not moms.