The Invisible Dad

I love that my kids feel that they can depend on me. I love that they come to me when they need help. I love being their "soft place to fall" or whatever the hell Dr. Phil says.  But sometimes the mundane and tiny things seem never ending. Because they are. My kids are young and need help with almost everything and that's fine. But sometimes I have to take deep breaths and not scream "what on God's green earth could you possibly need this time".  I hear "mommy, mom, maaaaamaaaa" all day long. Again, wouldn't have it any other way, and I am very lucky to stay home with them, but by about 7 pm, I need a minute. Or ten. 

This time of evening is almost sacred to me. Almost any week night at this time, I take a bubble bath. Kids are fed and they are playing or watching TV with their daddy.  

My husband is great with our kids. But that doesn't change the fact that they still come to me for EVERYTHING.  I don't think I have ever taken an uninterrupted bath unless the chuckleheads were sleeping.

"Mama, I need more juice". yelled through the bedroom door.
 Are you shitting me?
 "Your daddy is on the couch, tell him."

"Mama, C bit me!". 
 "Your dad is in the family room, ( you know, where you just came from), tell him."


"Mama, daddy won't let me watch Wubbzy".  
"Tell him to put Wubbzy on before I totally freakin lose it."

"Mama, I have to peeeeeee".
"That's fantastic.  No need to tell me or your daddy, just go in THE OTHER bathroom and do it.  And wash your hands. And flush".

Last night B walked in while I was trying to decompress with a little hydrotherapy.  I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Will you zip up my pajamas?" he asked.
"You walked from your room, through the family room, past the kitchen, through the foyer, into my room and then my bathroom to ask me to zip your jammies? Where is your daddy?"

"He's in the family room".

Of course he is.