I am a competent home parent. We have a good morning routine. E leaves for school and an hour later both kids are fed, dressed and we are on the way to daycare.
This morning I even had a zen moment about crayons. Baby B eats them. I get frustrated. But this morning I sat with both kids and we drew with crayons and I helped him draw and just kept taking the crayons from his mouth – slowing down to his pace.
But I am a short-termer, a visitor to Daddyland. And this became apparent this morning. Holding a green crayon, I remembered that NK’s rain overalls needed sewing. I ran around looking for a needle and thread. Took too long. Then I started sewing – with the toddler’s help. Sewing into rain overalls is hard – three layers of tough material. I was breaking needles, bleeding from my thumb, all with a three-year-old hanging over me.
During this time, the baby got into a bowl of oatmeal filled with blueberries. He dumped them all over NK’s chair and the floor … and half our clean laundry. Meanwhile, the needle got stuck and I had to break the string but left no room to tie a final knot. I faked it, while cleaning oatmeal off the couch, as the baby had apparently hidden some in a secret pocket just to smear on the clear other side of the room.
Then it was over. We got ready. We got to daycare 15 minutes late. The baby sleeps.
No big deal, except that I realized that I do not know how to sew tough material. I do not really know what to do with blueberry stains on white clothes. I do not know the best way to clean a couch.
I do not consider this a question of gender, by the way. I assume I would know these things if I was home full-time.
But I am not.
So back to the crayons, I am going be zen, and let it go …