It’s no secret daddies and mamas do things differently… sometimes very differently. This used to stress me out, thinking if my husband didn’t do things my way, there was something wrong with him- turns out, there was something wrong with my thinking. I know I’m not the first woman, who as a new mother, shoo-ed her well-intentioned husband away from taking care of baby.
Well, new-mamahood was 5+ years ago now, and boy howdy, have I learned my lesson. When my husband offers to help, I don’t think twice- sure he does things differently- but instead of stressful, it actually has become quite entertaining.
Like almost every human with a “y” chromosome, he is constitutionally incapable of choosing an outfit that matches. Not gonna happen. Especially when he dresses Abby, it’s a riot to see what he comes out with- sometimes he purposefully makes horrid choices, but other times, he really tries, and yet the outcome is the same as the horrid choices. I’ve gotten a lot of good laughter from his fashion “sense”.
DH has a phobia of baby-barf, which is ironic, since Jeffrey was the king of Barfers. Dear Husband totally geeks out if barf or even drool lands anywhere on his person. So he has developed a coping mechanism: He puts Abby is clothes several sizes too big that cover her hands, so when she chews or drools, the extra fabric catches the overflow. He calls these shirts and dresses “Self-Soppers”.
Changing diapers. He’s actually quite good at it, and does it frequently. However, he is terrified of getting poop anywhere on his body. Totally grosses him out- “poop finger” is something he cannot handle, so when he changes a baby, the wipe container will be lower by about 25 wipes- each and every time. Small price to pay for a DH who changes babies.
Baths: The water is always either too hot, or ice cold. For some reason, warm just doesn’t compute- but they’ll survive. That, and he uses about 15 squirts of Johson’s baby wash, per kid. But hey, I have a husband who helps, so I’m not complaining!
Laundry. When DH does some laundry- everthing gets washed in HOT and everything gets a splash of bleach. Everything. I won’t even explain. No laundry for you!
He’s a great vacuum-er. Better than I am, actually, because, a la Mr Incredible, he lifts the couch with one arm and vacuums underneath with the other. I can’t do that.
Dishes: Will, in fact, run the machine when only half-full. And will, in fact, always use 5 times the soap called for. But they are clean, dang it!
The other day, before leaving for work, he made our bed. It was the better than a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates. I felt soft and squishy towards him all day. What a good man!