Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Daddy's The Rock Star; I Just Work Here

For reasons that can't be explained, or at least I'm too simple to understand them, Brian is the rock star around here. Every.single.kid. in this house prefers him over me. For everything.

I mean, of course, I'll do, in the event he's not here. They do seem to prefer me, well, to strangers. Sometimes. And I guess occasionally, it works out to my benefit. The kids wake him up in the middle of the night and slither their cold body parts onto his side of the bed. But I'm the one who takes them to the multitude of doctor's appointments. I'm the one who takes children to the ER at all hours. I'm the one who stays with them in the hospital, trying not to cry, too, as nurses restart IVs that have infiltrated and little babies are taken back to surgery and a girl sits patiently through yet another breathing treatment. I make sure their clothes and shoes fit. I successfully suction the noses of fighting, thrashing kids to help them breathe better. I can administer medications to those who'd rather pass.

I take them to dance and make sure there is money for classes and costumes. I sign folders and send cheese cubes to school and arrange play dates.

But that stuff is only important to mamas, I guess. Not kids. Kids like piggy back rides and being tickled mercilessly and being thrown up in the air. They don't like actually having to use soap when they wash their hands, or do a decent job of brushing their teeth. They definitely don't like going to bed or taking a nap or that I don't let them watch TV from can to cain't. They cry when Brian has to go to work and beg him to come pick them up, instead of me.

I know I shouldn't care. But I do. I know I should tell myself that they're "just kids" and don't know any better, but it's hard. For once, I'd like to be the hero. The rock star.

On Monday, I had 4 children home sick. Tuesday, I had 2 sick children. Today, it's 3. It's definitely the price you pay when you have several kids. I get that. I'm not asking for or expecting sympathy because my kids are sick this week. And last week. And last month. I just want my own kids to think I'm a hero. I'd just like a crumb or two, if possible. Something to keep from feeling so discouraged. To stop feeling like I am obviously in the wrong line of work.

I'd love to wallow a little longer, but the washer just stopped and the kitchen beckons. Life goes on when you just work here.


Oilfield Trash said...

Don't fret my friend. The bonds a child has with a father are very, very different than that of the one they have with their mother.

Mother = caregiver.
Father = fun.

I understand where you are coming from as my ex always had the same complaint. It is different, I don't know why. But I just know that it is what it is.

Take chickens. The hen lays the eggs, keeps them warm, helps the chickens hatch, and then shows them life. The rooster is out running around the barnyard. It is the same with other animals in nature, why are we/should we be any different?

Look at your parents, you had a much different relationship with your dad than you did with your mom.

Keep your chin up, your kids will get that you are an awesome mom one day. I don't know when that day will come or how many vomit piles you will clean up before that moment, but it will come.

Shanon said...

I'd like to be so positive and remind you that even when your children don't acknowledge what you do, God knows. That He sees what you do and you are a hero to Him because of your dedication to your kids and your family. And that's all true. But I have to admit, it sucks to not be given credit when credit is due, espcially to us words of affirmation chicks. So, in leiu of our kids not hero-worshipping us as they should, let me just say that I think you're awesome.

brian said...

I don't care what you think, YOU'RE the rock star as far as I'm concerned. You know what you do everyday would drive me crazy in a heartbeat. And I hope you know how much it means to me that you keep on keepin' on, credit or no credit. I love you.

Now, shut up, [bleep]! ;)

Georgia said...

I must be moving up in the world. One of my children called me to come wipe her, instead of Daddy.

Anonymous said...

I hear ya...Laura dissed me today when we were completely engaged in a game of flashing bouncy ball catch. She heard a man on TV and TOOK OFF crawling to find Jeff, saying "da-da-da-da" all the way. She was heartbroken to not find him. HA! Not really on the "ha"...well, maybe just a little bit.

As I was reading your post, I was thinking "of course kids like the daddy better." I mean, the mom takes them to the dr and er to get stuck by needles or their little throats swabbed. The mom makes them sit still for certain activities. The mom makes them wear shoes and clothes that they might prefer be burned. The mom sucks snot all the way from their toes with the blue bulb. The mom makes them remember their backpack and packs cheese cubes instead of oreos. The mom makes them rewash their hands and brush their teeth with actual toothpaste. The mom makes them go to bed, turn off the tv, do their homework, do their chores. The mom is a torturous slave driver. I remember well the days that we all preferred our dad.

But then we grew up. And we realized that the mom teaches responsibility. The mom's requirements kept us healthy and smelling better than the stinky kids. The mom prepares us for LIFE. The mom fixed us some goooooood meals. The mom taught us how to be tidy and to make our beds so our college roommates didn't hate us. The mom taught us how to prioritize our time so we got the important stuff done. The dad is good, too, but its the mom that usually does all the grunt work that grows the kids up into functioning adults. Give 'em 15 or so years...they'll come around.