Life as a Lindquist: Daddies Do It Different

The title of this post is the title of the book I bought Rob for Father's Day.

An excerpt:

At bedtime, Mommy dims the light, dresses me in a clean pair of jammies, and we never forget to brush my teeth.

But daddies do it different. With a thousand kooky voices, Daddy reads me silly stories, we jump like kangaroos, and he tickles me so much, I get crazy-hyper nuts.

It goes on to describe the differences between how mommies and daddies do things like breakfast, bath times and other routines. It is somewhat stereotypical, with mom being the responsible/boring one and dad being the irresponsible/fun one.

Faith's Dad: the fun one.

However, most of the situations couldn't be more true for how our family operates. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

When Faith was first born, I read something on Babycenter to the effect of "you may want to kill your DH (dear hubby) shortly after the baby is born." I remember thinking how ludicrous that seemed. Rob was so helpful, keeping track of my medications, getting up with me in the wee hours of the morning, running errands, etc. How could I ever even get mad at him, let alone want to kill him? Well, just like with household chores, sometimes you feel an imbalance when caring for a kid, even if there isn't one. It took a few months, but I got to the point where I felt like he wasn't shouldering his share of the load or just wasn't doing "it" right. That kinda makes me sound mean, but I think most moms will know what I'm talking about here. For example, the first bath Rob gave Faith, he dabbed some water on a washcloth and not so gently wiped Faith three times before calling it good. My mom and I just looked at each other like "What was that?"

Well, daddies do it different (differently to be grammatically correct). And that's OK. Because sometime after that bath, my mom and I decided to take a walk with Howie. When we got back Rob told us he gave Faith a tour of the house. Who would've thought to give a 4-day-old baby a tour of the house? Her dad.

He may not comb her hair like I would. Exhibit A.

Or dress her like I would when playing in the snow. (Those are pajama pants.)

Or play with her like I would. Yes, that's a worm. Ewwww.

But that's because he's not supposed to. Faith doesn't need two me's. She needs her mom and she needs her daddy. Our differences are what make us great parents.

If it weren't for her dad, Faith wouldn't get to enjoy weekly trips to the grocery store/Target, where her dad lets her push the cart and play with the pianos in the electronics department.