This past weekend, while visiting friends in DC, I made two important discoveries. The first is that the only thing more hazardous to a baby than a house with no children is a house occupied by a four-year-old girl who has a thing for princess dolls with teeny tiny shoes. The other is that my husband, it turns out, can successfully put the baby down for a nap. He might, dare I say, be even better at it than I am. I know—SHOCKING.
Mazzy's DC sleep quarters consisted of a Pack 'n Play in a downstairs office with tons of flashing computer lights so I thought we were already pushing our luck that she had gotten a full night's sleep (thank you, sleep training). I certainly didn't think the arrangement would give us a chance in hell that she would go down for a nap. At the appropriate time, I made a dutiful yet half-assed attempt to allure the baby with the obvious benefits of rest and relaxation. But the second she put up a struggle, I brought her upstairs and declared it impossible. Then something unexpected happened. Mike took the baby from me, said he'd give it a shot and headed back downstairs. I smirked knowing his naptime history.
Previously, Mike's prefered method for getting the baby to go down for a nap is to stick her in the Bjorn and take a walk. This is because Mazzy hates to nap in her crib and Mike hates to hear her cry. If you'll remember, I had to wait for him to go out of town before I was able to successfully implement sleep training. So naps usually fall on me. Along with most other baby-related things. It's not that he doesn't help out, it's just that he makes it clear that I have been appointed baby gatekeeper by asking a lot of questions. When I ask him to change the baby into her pajamas, he asks me which ones. Just pick something. When I ask him to get the baby's dinner ready, he asks me what to prepare. I have no written meal plan. Just take a few things and mash them in a cup. Aren't we both just making this stuff up as we go along? When did I become the resident baby expert? Maybe it was while he was sleeping…?
But then something even more unprecedented happened than my husband offering to give naptime a shot in the first place. Mike emerged from the DC-home-office-baby-sleep-quarters completely victorious. And then later that same day, he did it AGAIN. Mike was so proud of his newfound nap inducing skills that he acted like he had one-upped me in some kind of self-created parenting competition. Patting himself on the back as if he had just snatched the Parent of the Year title with a write-in vote. Ahhh… so naive.
Pat away, dear husband! Rub your naptime triumphs in my face! Earn the accolades of moms and dads in states all along the eastern seaboard! Hold that Parent of the Year Award up high! I'll even add in a cash prize and a gift certificate for a massage at Bliss. I concede.
Nap time, my love, is YOURS.
Totally hilarious! I get asked the same questions and have pretty much the same responses.
Now that is a good dead that will be regretted!
Just to be clear, does this newfound talent encompass all of naptime? Including, I don’t know, oh, let’s say, during-nap poop explosions, or the occasional middle-of-nap torrential vomit? Because if so, you’ve got a keeper. If not, well. Let’s just say the award has only been borrowed.
victorious in deed.
Thank god we have never had a nap time poop explosion or a middle of nap torrential vomit. If we had, I believe nap time would be clearly over.
Although we did have a few of these occasions in the middle of the night and I believe i handled every last one of them.
welcome to my world! I have a 6 yr old girl and a 10 month old. The miniature toys are a nightmare! I have at least 10 heart attacks per day.
Love this! Boy men aren’t subtle either. Once they do something Daddy related you never hear the end of it. My kids are 10 and 6 and I still hear how he was better at calming a kid down or could give the kid a bath with one hand tied behind his back and make sure the kid didn’t drown!
Not to mention the crayons, play-doh and chalk. Who can keep rack of it all? I must have stuck my finger in the baby’s mouth to retrieve something or other like ten times. Ten minor panic attacks.
I’m glad my husband isn’t the only one. I keep telling him we are a team and he’s like— HA! I beat you in diapering!
oh god, the “i’ll feed the baby.” but then, “what should i fix?” scenario was straight out of my house, right? i don’t know, dude, go to the pantry and get out some food. why are you asking me?? moms wouldn’t think they were the boss if you didn’t ACT like we are…
“What should I give her?” is such a stupid simple request but it near KILLS me every time.
oh, please do not even get me started.
I advise everyoe I know to LIVE with their husband to be first.
It’s the only way to find out how much he is not able to do.
Hahaha.. Yay for you – now you can leave it to him to put her down for a nap and he can’t say anything! 🙂
Nice! That whole “I’m a man and I don’t know how to do stuff” is just a well executed joke.
Coming to you via the MamaKat writing prompt.
I was laughing out loud just from reading the title 😉