mummy is always tired

For Our Very Lovely Daddies – No Sarcasm Intended

on February 26, 2014

My other half is a great daddy.  He is patient and happy to sit and play endless rounds of ‘Shopping List’ (if you have a 3 year old I’m sure you’ve played this) despite the fact our 3 year old cheats all the time.  He is calm and collected and knows how to deal with toddler tantrums with far more dignity and composure than I could ever muster.  Where he would coax and cajole our grumpy child I would resort to hysteria and hair pulling (mine not theirs – obviously) usually resulting in being sent to the naughty room (them not me).

However, there are some (many) times when I really don’t understand the logic behind my other half’s actions.  These actions are usually focussed around dealing with the not so pleasant side of raising children such as what to do with pooed in pants or clearing up pools of sick.   Our eldest takes great pride in being able to go to the toilet now and will usually announce to the world when she needs a wee, poos however are altogether a different matter.  So, we have had several ‘poo incidents’ which have required immediate attention.  Now, the logical behaviour in dealing with ‘poo incidents’ would surely be to take off the offending garments, rinse through any left over deposits and wash on a minimum of 60 degrees? Well, it’s logical unless of course you have a better way of dealing with this – such as leaving it to someone else.  My other half isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and has on such occasions followed step 1 but failed to realise that unless you deal with stained and stinky pants, they will stay in exactly the same state as when you took them off.  As such I have often walked past the utility room to notice pooey pants casually thrown on the worktop waiting for someone to take action…..which of course would then be me.

But I don’t think my other half is alone in using this tactic.  I have a friend who, earlier this year was struck down by a virus that left her bed bound and unable to keep any food down, she was also breastfeeding their youngest.  So, it stands to reason that she was absolutely, without a doubt, exhausted.  Their eldest also catching this bug, threw up.  My friend, shattered, drained and simply worn out managed to undress her and leave the chunder covered clothes in the bathroom sink.  Surely anyone especially one’s ‘better half’ would see this, see the state she was in and deal with the offending articles? Well, a week later there were no more chunder covered clothes; no, they were now mouldy, chunder covered clothes.  Needless to say, someone was in trouble.

Still, I don’t think there was any intention in either of these instances to ignore the situation, I think it just comes down to not knowing what to do because clearly us mummies are just great at everything!  For example all the mummies I know are ‘in charge’ of sending out the mandatory post birthday and Christmas ‘thank you’ cards.  Not so long ago (mid Feb) this point was confirmed when a daddy friend looked over to his wife and asked “did we send out thank you cards?” to which there was no reply except a gentle rolling of the eyes.

The other morning, both our children decided to slow down daily efficiencies by being clingy.  With time pressing on and with the realisation that I would be late for work, drastic action had to be taken and I left the youngest to cry whilst I helped our eldest get changed.  With the screaming increasing to blood curdling levels I asked my other half to give her a cuddle.  Now, we have a dog and when you call, the dog comes bounding over.  This principle doesn’t work on wailing 17 month olds.  I know this, but clearly my other half thinks that toddlers and dogs are bound by the same laws of convention.  The result was my youngest reached such levels of hysteria, she made herself sick – all over her clothes and all over the floor (which the dog licked away, thank you Otis) and all this before 07.30.  Now, if my other half had done as requested perhaps our children’s bedroom wouldn’t now have that faint waft of eau de spew.  I was not happy.

Despite all this though we couldn’t be without daddy.  Regardless of the cast aside pooey toddler pants and the inability to use common sense and the washing machine/dishwasher/mop he is most definitely my other and dare I say it, better half.  So for all the daddies out there who get moaned at by exhausted mummies, we do appreciate and love you very much, but next time we ask you to do something, please do it.

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