To: Daddy Propaganda

Last week, Molly and I were in the car headed across town.  I don’t know where we were going, but she was getting antsy.  (In “mom-speak”, antsy is the term assigned to behavior that falls between content and full-blown tantrum.  It’s dangerous territory that must be treaded on lightly.  One tilt in the wrong direction and all hell can break loose.)  I quickly plugged in my iPhone and turned on Pandora’s “Toddler Radio” Station.  There isn’t much that a good sing-a-long can’t fix, right?

Seconds later, a cheesy rendition of “The Wheels on the Bus” poured from my speakers.  And before I could get caught up in the thought of, “Why do all the men who sing these songs have a bit of creepiness in their voice?”, Molly’s favorite verse came along.  And, as the sweet (and desperate) mother I am, I sang along.

You know the tune…

The baby on the bus goes, “Waa, waa, waa.  Waa, waa, waa. Waa, waa, waa.”  The baby on the bus goes, “Waa, waa, waa.”  All through the town.

The mommy on the bus goes, “Shh, shh, shh.  Shh, shh, shh.  Shh, shh, shh.”  The mommy on the bus goes, “Shh, shh, shh.”  All through the town.

I peered in the rearview and saw Content Molly had reappeared.  Phew – one for the home team.  Creepy-voice-guy worked like a charm.  She recently became obsessed with the “shh” noise, which is why this is her favorite verse.  She likes to put her finger to her mouth, dramatize the sound, and close her eyes.  She thinks it’s equated to sleeping.   Win-win, I’d say. 

Anyway, just as I start to lose interest in the song, my curiosity was piqued by the next verse, one I had not heard:

The daddy on the bus says, “I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”  The daddy on the bus says, “I love you.”  All through the town.

ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME. ??

I’ve never heard this version before, and I’ll admit, I gawked out loud in the car.  My jaw fell open, and I laughed at such a ridiculous verse.  “Oh, please,” I thought, “The mommy says, ‘shh’?  And the daddy says, ‘I love you’?”  I dramatically rolled my eyes.  “Whatever.”

Then, my twisted brain started thinking of more “appropriate” versions of this verse, like:

The daddy on the bus asks, “What should I do?  What should I do?  What should I do?’

 OR

The daddy on the bus plays on his phone.  Plays on his phone.  Plays on his phone.

OR, my personal favorite,

The daddy on the bus asks, “Why’s she crying?  Why’s she crying?  Why’s she crying?”

Then, amidst my lone joke series, I started thinking… is this verse really that out of line?  I mean, isn’t this the stereotype we have created in modern parenting?

The mom does all the nitty-gritty work, and the dad has the fun.

The mom cooks the meals, and the dad gives them candy.

The mom does the laundry, and the dad plays in the dirt.

The mom takes the kids to the doctor, and the dad takes them to the park.

The mom changes the diapers, and the dad plays peek-a-boo.

The mom works to quiet a crying baby in a public place, and the daddy just whispers, “I love you.”

We see this stereotype played out everywhere.  In media.  In books.  In movies.  And, now, most recently, in children’s songs. 

So, why?  Is there truth to this stereotype?  I mean, are moms so caught up in the grind that they don’t enjoy the pleasure of simple things?  Are we, moms, so engrossed in the details that we can’t have fun or play in the dirt?  Are we too concerned with what others are thinking of our children that we can’t give them the affection they need, when they need it? 

Well, if we’re honest: sometimes, yes. 

Yes.  Sometimes I feel so bogged down by the insane cycle of housework, diapers, baths, meals, and errands that I forget the cuteness of a giggle or the awe of a new word.

Yes.  Sometimes I am more concerned with the level of crankiness and encroaching nap time that I cut a wagon ride short.

Yes.  Sometimes I begin to sweat, panic, and freak if my child is acting like a, wait for it, NORMAL 19 MONTH OLD in public that I don’t see or hear what she is really communicating.

Yes.  Sometimes I am the mother on the bus saying, “Shh.  Shh.  Shh.”

But, that’s what I am, A MOTHER.

All these things: nap times, baths, dirty diapers, diaper rashes, dirt stains, meals, doctor’s appointments, laundry.  These things are part of the job.  These are the ways, NOT the only ways, but these are ways I mother my daughter. 

Is it exhausting?  Yes.

Does it sometimes feel like Groundhog’s Day?  Yes.

Is it an excuse for missing out on the sweet and precious moments of this season? No.

And, that is where the DAD comes along.  (Well, at least this is how it works in our family.  This is not an advice blog.)

Daniel will admit:

-he’ll only bathe Molly on nights when her hair doesn’t need to be washed.

-he won’t ever apply any type of diaper rash ointment.

-he doesn’t know how the clothes in her room are organized.

-he’s never cut her fingernails. 

He doesn't do fingernails or Desitin, but he can swing for hours.

However, these lose importance when he comes home from work and brings the party.  He is a breath of fresh air, so 5:30 is a highlight of our day. 

I think it’s something that has been happening for generations.  I still have vivid memories of being tossed into the air by my dad, him still in his work clothes, my mom getting dinner ready in the kitchen.  My little brother and I would wait by the door, each grab hold of one of his ankles as he walked in the house, and let him drag us across the floor - all with his briefcase and pager* still in hand.  (*Shout out to the early 90s.)

I love this part of the day.  I love it because Daniel is the dad that will be whispering, “I love you.  I love you.  I love you,” on the bus, but he won’t just be whispering it to Molly, he’ll be whispering it to me.  He’s a great father because he is an incredible husband.  (And, please know, before you start to roll your eyes at my oogling, my public praising of him is NOT a regular occurrence.  Check all my social media outlets.  You’ll find ZERO references to my husband’s awesomeness, so hear my sincerity now. )

So, this is how the “stereotype” plays out in our house:

-I nursed Molly (which included lugging a stupid pump to work everyday) for 14 months and Daniel constantly encouraged me and expressed his “awe”. 

-I take Molly to all of her doctor’s appointments, run all the errands, and have dinner made when he gets home and Daniel fills my car with gas, works crazy hours to provide for our family, and listens to every ‘poop-filled diaper’ detail of my day.

-I do all of the laundry and even put away all of HIS clothes (if that’s not dying to self, I don’t know what is), and he will take Molly on a walk or on an errand to give me some alone time.

They've also been known to share an episode of Baby Einstein together.

I could go on here, but you get the point.  You see, I may be doing the nitty gritty work, but the truth is, I love it.  I want to be the one doing it.  I want the sleepless nights.  I want the bath time.  I want to lug that dumb pump to work everyday.  I want to be the one to rock her after a vaccination.  (I could do without the laundry, seriously...the laundry is a doozie.)  I want these things.  But, I understand, I only want them because of Daniel.  Daniel allows me to want them… Let me explain.

He can wrestle, FaceTime the grandparents, “hunt” for squirrels, play catch, or teach Molly any tricks he wants (fist bumps and twirling are the recent favorites).   He can even work late (if he lets me know), play golf (every so often), and watch the Rangers.  He can be the “fun parent”, I don’t mind.  This isn’t a competition – this is life.  I just need him to come home at the end of the day and be THAT dad and THAT husband who whispers on THAT darn bus, “I love you.”

I need him to do that so I don’t forget giggles, twisting, and playing in the dirt are more important than schedules, bedtimes, and sippy cups.  I need him to remind me that fresh air, slides, and nature walks are more valuable than picking up toys, a pile of dirty laundry, or dishes in the sink.  I need him to encourage me so that I remember I am a mother, not a robot.  This is real life, not Groundhog’s Day.  I need him to remind me of all of these things WHILE also being grateful, encouraging, and happy that I do the other things.  Because, while the nitty gritty stuff isn’t the most important, it still is important.  And, let’s be honest, it HAS to be done.     

Molly's favorite vantage point.

So, if the dads out there need a few children’s songs to encourage their success, so be it.  A little “daddy propaganda” never hurt anyone.  I probably don’t tell Daniel thank you enough.  And, probably, when I do, it’s so that he’ll turn around and thank me, as well.  Hey, I never said I was perfect.  I said I was a mother.  And those two things, my friend, do not go hand in hand. 

So, thank you, creepy-voice-man, I’ll happily sing along to whatever cheesy line you want to throw out there if it soothes my antsy girl in the back seat.

And, thank you, Daniel.  For everything.  (Except your laundry.  It’s a killer.  You have more than Molly, and she is not potty trained nor does she eat with silverware.  How does that work out?)

(I couldn't resist a few heart melters for the sign off...)

From: Paige