mom v. dad
This morning I caught a few minutes of a discussion of Mom v. Dad parenting styles on the Today Show. I think the point of the spot was to say something like, if moms want dads to participate, then they can't try to micromanage every moment of interaction...let dads be dads. The discussion triggered a lot of funny memories for me because, from very early on, my husband has HAD to participate.
When our infants were triplets, he realized right away that he was going to have to help out a lot more than he had expected. I remember the moment vividly. It was the first night that two of my girls were home from the hospital. My husband went to bed at his usual time because he had to go to work the next day--while I stayed up alone with the two fussy babies. I didn't mind. I was excited to have them home, and I knew that Anthony had already taken so much time off of work when the girls in the hosptial.
The girls basically cried and fussed continually, while I alternated between the two, changing one then the other, feeding one then the other, rocking one then the other. I later learned that in the hospital the babies often got the same amount of stimulation at night as they did during the day, sometimes even more from the night shift nurses who often had extra time on their hands. According to my babies' schedules, midnight to seven was party time!
At some point around maybe 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. Anthony apppeared in the babies' room where I was still awake and frantically changing another diaper, desparate for the girls to settle down, and without saying a word he just picked up one of the babies and brought her back to bed with him. He took responsibility for that girl for the rest of the night. That was the beginning of months of our either taking four hour shifts each night with the girls or splitting up the responsiblities at night--he would take one girl, while I took two, and vice versa.
The only way we survived that period was by sharing the workload. However, sharing meant that I had to relinquish some control (easier said than done) and accept his style of parenting. One night when my husband was taking the first shift--10:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m., I woke up to find my three month old girls in the living room, all of the lights were on and bombs were exploding on the television, not to mention the obvious evidence that diapers had been changed on the coffee table. His rationale was something about if he had to be awake anyway he might as well catch one of his favorite WWII movies...
After that, the two of us did finally reach an agreement (we were both too tired to argue anyway) that the girls would never learn to sleep through the night by watching war movies. Now, nearly five years later, I still think about that night. Although my husband would never believe it while I'm telling him not to throw the girls so high in the pool or not to buy donuts after every trip to the library, I actually do bite my tongue quite a bit and try to remember that we indeed have different styles, and my girls are probably better off because of it.
When our infants were triplets, he realized right away that he was going to have to help out a lot more than he had expected. I remember the moment vividly. It was the first night that two of my girls were home from the hospital. My husband went to bed at his usual time because he had to go to work the next day--while I stayed up alone with the two fussy babies. I didn't mind. I was excited to have them home, and I knew that Anthony had already taken so much time off of work when the girls in the hosptial.
The girls basically cried and fussed continually, while I alternated between the two, changing one then the other, feeding one then the other, rocking one then the other. I later learned that in the hospital the babies often got the same amount of stimulation at night as they did during the day, sometimes even more from the night shift nurses who often had extra time on their hands. According to my babies' schedules, midnight to seven was party time!
At some point around maybe 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. Anthony apppeared in the babies' room where I was still awake and frantically changing another diaper, desparate for the girls to settle down, and without saying a word he just picked up one of the babies and brought her back to bed with him. He took responsibility for that girl for the rest of the night. That was the beginning of months of our either taking four hour shifts each night with the girls or splitting up the responsiblities at night--he would take one girl, while I took two, and vice versa.
The only way we survived that period was by sharing the workload. However, sharing meant that I had to relinquish some control (easier said than done) and accept his style of parenting. One night when my husband was taking the first shift--10:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m., I woke up to find my three month old girls in the living room, all of the lights were on and bombs were exploding on the television, not to mention the obvious evidence that diapers had been changed on the coffee table. His rationale was something about if he had to be awake anyway he might as well catch one of his favorite WWII movies...
After that, the two of us did finally reach an agreement (we were both too tired to argue anyway) that the girls would never learn to sleep through the night by watching war movies. Now, nearly five years later, I still think about that night. Although my husband would never believe it while I'm telling him not to throw the girls so high in the pool or not to buy donuts after every trip to the library, I actually do bite my tongue quite a bit and try to remember that we indeed have different styles, and my girls are probably better off because of it.
posted by kim at 7:08 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home