Donkey Makes a Great Dad
It’s a well known, well-documented fact that The Donkey isn’t overly supportive during pregnancies. This fact will only be confirmed as we continue to write about the remaining months of my pregnancy, not to mention the labor and delivery. So, why in the world would I choose to have a 4th child with this man? The simple fact is, The Donkey happens to be a fantastic father. My attempts to honor him yesterday were pretty pathetic, but a quick summary of our weekend will certainly prove my point:
Friday: The Donkey comes home early to help me get ready for a birthday party for Dimples. He corrals kids, helps serve food, cleans up after dinner. That night he helps put the kids to bed.
Saturday: The Donkey has an early-morning meeting for a church assignment. As soon as he gets home he plays some soccer outside with the boys, then puts sunscreen on everyone and they all pile in the van and head for the zoo–without me. They stay for a few hours during which our boy Monkey makes 3 requests for potty-stops. After the zoo, they come home for a quick lunch (which The Donkey makes). He puts Dimples down for a nap, then takes the two older boys out to see Kung Fu Panda (this time there are no less than 4 potty requests from Monkey). After that, he takes a quick trip to the gym (which I was happy to let him do, since the kids and I have to sneak off and get a Father’s Day gift. TIP: Never, ever take 3 children with you to Guitar Center, even if you are just planning to walk in, grab a Nirvana book, and walk out. Trust me, it will not go well.) When he’s back from the gym, The Donkey gives the kids a snack, then takes all three kids to run a few errands–grocery shopping for the week, a movie rental, and some takeout for us. He gets home, puts all the groceries away, we eat dinner, and he helps put the kids to bed.
Sunday: Despite the fact that my husband gave me an entire child-free day the day before, I still don’t manage to have everything ready for a nice, peaceful morning of breakfast and honoring Daddy. Instead, the kids and I are scrambling around trying to wrap presents and write cards before The Donkey comes home from an early-morning meeting. When his meeting is canceled, and he arrives home a full hour before we expected him, he graciously ignores my stressed-out, emotional outburst. He proceeds to empty and load the dishwasher, and tries to fix the boys’ broken closet door, which he knows has been bothering me. The boys and I finish our quick-wrapping and card design (black pen on plain white paper), and unceremoniously give Daddy his gifts. He enjoys his cards and guitar music books (yes, I finally managed to set up the guitar lessons I promised him). At this point, we’re in danger of being late, so while I jump in the shower, The Donkey gets the boys completely dressed for church. After church, I’m busy with an assignment, so he brings them home and gets lunch ready for everybody.
I think I’ll stop there. That’s just one little slice of our life, not to mention the fact that The Donkey knows how to pack a diaper bag, does not to be given special instructions when I’m away from home (even overnight), and can get the kids to bed in half the time that I can.
Boy Wonder wrote his Father’s Day letter all by himself yesterday, and I think he said it best:
I love you because you hug me a lot and because you take me to seven eleven a lot and because you get me what I want but not always but you did last time you mixed lots of Slurpees together and you play blanket monster I always want you to get me but sometimes you get [Monkey] or [Dimples] the end.
Love, [Boy Wonder]
Nine months of clueless comments, no empathy, being treated like I’m “faking it,” all ending with a labor and delivery where he complains about how uncomfortable he is? I’ll take it, any day.