It's God Intent that men always do it wrong

When I was pregnant with Lyla, there was a night when I wanted ice cream (well, many nights but I'm referencing this specific one to be exact).  Not just any ice cream, Drumsticks to be exact. You know, the premade cones you find with chocolate and nuts on top, in the freezer section of the grocery store?  Well, my lovely wonderful man went out to get said ice cream, around 10 oclock at night.  In the two minute ride to the store, I texted him additional items he should grab while he's there:  apple pie, cherry pie, and brownies.  You know, the basics.  When he returned, he started to unload the items into the freezer, and low and behold - he couldn't fit them all in.  He took out the individual cones (He got a 12 pack mind you - the wrong size pack, I only needed a 4 pack - does he want me to get fat??) and started to randomly insert them into tiny open holes between bags of vegetables and whole apple and cherry pies.  You can image my dismay upon seeing this, as I yelled incessantly at him for not being able to fit everything in the freezer.  Why on earth would you mess up my freezer, how in the world am I supposed to get anything out now?!! I scream, chocolate and nuts falling from my cone onto the tile floor. 

8 months pregnant with Lyla

God wants men to always do it the wrong way for one simple reason, population control. If men were the exact same way as women, if they did everything right, and were never annoying, we would have a way too many babies. That's it, it's that simple. I'm pretty sure Parker does it wrong because it's Gods Will.  I generally don't prefer to make sweeping generalizations about a gender, or religion, or a political belief.  So instead I'll say, I'm only speaking about MY husband, and if it just so happens that you share these similarities, then so be it. 

I remember when Lyla and Toby began wearing the same size diapers. It was just a few months ago when they both fit properly in a size 3. (I always knew that day would come, I just didn't think it would come when my daughter was four months old.)  I sighed a refreshing sigh of relief...Now my sweet boy wouldn't be stuffed into his sisters diapers by my unobservant husband.  I'm sure Toby's feeling a little more comfortable now too :-). 

On any given day I probably tell Parker he's doing it wrong about five times. If you ask him, I'm sure he'll tell you 10 times. Now, we love each other very much.  I feel like we have a very solid relationship, but children and babies put a strain on even the most unshakable foundation. We are able to, at the end of each night, squash whatever arguments we've been in for the day, kiss each other good night, and go to bed. I only recall one or two times in our entire relationship, where we went to bed mad, and honestly right now I don't remember what we were mad about. When I say that it's God's intent for men to do things wrong, I don't quite mean it the way it sounds. I don't really think men do things wrong all the time, they just don't do it the way we want them to do it. Ok, Ok, I'll admit it - that doesn't necessarily make them wrong, it just makes them different.  In the big scheme of life, we should be celebrating these differences, Because without them the world would be overrun with little ones running around everywhere. Let me elaborate. 

Just imagine a world where my husband......

• Actually woke up every time one of the kids cries erupted on the monitor.  He wouldn't get the swift jab in the side signaling its his turn.  I wouldn't think - When I'm not here, does he actually wake up for the kids, or does he just snore right into lunch time, keeping them stuck in their cribs, legs dangling out the side?
• Knew how to dress my daughter.  When I ask him to get her dressed, he doesn't appear in the doorway with my darling child in red Adidas pants, a light pink t-shirt with hot pink flowers, and purple socks.  I wouldn't think - What are you doing to our little girl?  In what world is this outfit Ok?  He wouldn't respond with the usual - well we aren't going anywhere and this is all clean......
  
• Closed the cabinet doors behind himself after making the kids meals.  I wouldn't sigh heavily, turning the corner into the kitchen, seeing every baby item we own displayed proudly on the shelves. 

• Used only 3 wipes to clean a dirty baby butt.  Instead of his usual 25, what would I do if he only used 3, like me? And on that note...what if he knew not to change a poopy diaper on my white bedroom quilt, or to make sure he has a clean diaper ready to squish under a naked bottom BEFORE he removes the dirty one.  What would the world be like if my kids couldn't pee on everything when he changes them?

• Gave the kids a bath.  Instead of me for once, what if my husband actually enjoyed bathing our kids and helped.  What if he didn't say he couldn't bath our daughter because he wasn't really sure how to clean those parts, or some other excuse for the night. 

• Wanted to go out to dinner with our family of 4.  What if I didn't have to cook for the night and he suggested we all go out to dinner. What if the simple thought of a family meal out didn't make his hair stand on end, cringing at the very thought of managing our children at a public table for an hour and a half. 

• Thanked me for keeping our children's wardrobe plentiful and trendy.  Instead of giving me a look of judgment seeing a new shopping bag, what if he asked what was inside, and complimented me on my great fashion sense.  What if he didn't roll his eyes every time Lyla appeared with a new flower headband?

• Screwed the top of the baby bottle on tight enough to not let it leak, but loose enough so even I can unscrew it.  What if I didn't have to chuck the empty carafe in his direction, signaling I cant get the top off to clean it? 

• Knew how to correctly pack the diaper bag.  What if I never had to redo everything he just threw in there with no rhyme or reason, feeling it acceptable because he fit it all in. 

• Wouldn't allow our 6 month old to be dropped off at the baby sitter with missing socks, two days in a row.  How does he not see she's missing a sock! These thoughts not crossing my mind.

• Turned the baby swing off after getting Lyla out.  What if I didn't have to walk into the room and see a completely empty swing on full blast, lights and music blaring with no child in site.  Every. Time. 

• Made a child friendly playlist on the IPOD, and no more Ganstar rap blasted while it's on shuffle in the car, my fingers scrambling to hit next.  What if I knew my kids weren't going to repeat the words they hear from Tupac at daycare. 

Here's what I can tell you for sure, Parker is always wrong because he's supposed to be wrong. Because its his job to be cool, harmonious and low key, when I'm strung out trying to find a perfect outfit, destroying the babies room while I'm at it.  Its his position in this family to make me feel like the best mom in the world - and he does it, every day.  If we were always in agreement about how, why and when to parent, we would want more children.  A bus load of them!  Because we would agree when one watches the kids and one showers, and both of us wouldn't go days without cleaning ourselves because we've just plain forgotten.  I would have have time to read and sew, and do my nails, and brush my hair.  I would be well rested, because I wouldn't have to wake up every night, and I wouldn't wear my pajamas all day long and brush my teeth for the first time at 12 pm (or 5pm) because my mind isn't quite there yet. He makes our world balanced.  He makes our relationship interesting.  He reminds me that at the end of the day, it shouldn't really matter when he doesn't do it the way I would do it, because I'm a freak.  And I get it. I don't always acknowledge it, But I get it. 

I know there are times when he wants to walk straight out the door. Stop and get an energy drink, and make his way to the poker table at the casino for 10 straight hours of child/wife free time.  But he never leaves.  He's always there with me.  Always putting up with me, and our tiny toddler wanting to be tossed about in his mighty arms.  Always changing the TV to Bubble Guppies, or Toy Story, or Peppa Pig, when he just wants to sit in his chair and watch Fox News and MSNBC simultaneously, grunting to himself about how absurd the world is.  He is my handsome rock.  The one who massages my shoulders when I'm sitting in the doctors office, head down waiting AGAIN.  He's our children's Knight in shining Armour - never doing anything wrong - the strongest man in the world, throwing them about high in the air and catching them, every time! He's the only man that can make my daughter smile a huge gummy grin with just one look, and I hope it stays that way forever. (Well, I hope its not always just gums, but you get the point).  

He is perfectly imperfect.  Just the way a man my husband should be. 

Thank you for listening, 
Lindsey