Parenting, it turns out, is a competition.
And I am losing.
Who is working harder, getting less sleep, changing more diapers or more quickly winning the love of the child? These are the things mom and dad debate in the first months of a child’s life.
I’m under no delusion that a mother’s life isn’t difficult. But somehow we dads are the Winklevoss twins of parenting: we get no credit for a project that will ultimately be a tremendous success.
I am eternally grateful my wife has chosen to be the nighttime caretaker on weeknights, when I have to work the next morning. I dread the thought of her returning to work after next week and us splitting nighttime duties.
Yes, Sydney has decided that, even though she sleeps 17 hours a day, it is best for her to continue to ensure a few of her awake hours occur after midnight. In fact, she seems most rambunctious after her late-evening feeding. She may be a vampire.
Side note: last night, a weekend night, I had night duty. Sydney slept a solid 5 ½ hours, from 12:15 a.m. to 5:50 a.m. I am taking full credit for it. All hail, King Daddy!!! Clearly, she knows that when daddy is in charge, she must behave.
Back to story: So nearly every morning, I awake to find Brooke sleeping in a different room because she has moved Sydney around the house in an effort to calm her crying and get her to sleep. My wife appears to be getting less sleep to me, and she is not afraid to let me know it. “Oh, are you just waking up? Must be nice. I think I managed about 22 minutes last night.” Yawn.
But is she really sleeping less? After I leave for work, what exactly does she do? How do I know she doesn’t sleep all day. Yes, I get a solid six hours and she might only get three at night, but does she then turn around and get five more during the day? Who really knows? You know she’ll never admit it, because then she can’t play the “sleep” card every morning and make me feel like former presidential candidate John Edwards, abandoning his wife in a time of need.
But, before I let her win the title for less sleep, I am going to sneak away from work some morning and peek through my windows to see exactly what goes on around here when I am gone. I suspect I am going to find one huge slumber party.
As for changing diapers, I concede. She is home alone with her all day, so there’s no doubt. Plus, as I have already acknowledged, I am not above passing off the baby with a smelly surprise hiding below her belt.
Working harder? Come on. I work all day THEN come home and take care of the baby. Brooke catches up on Jersey Shore reruns during the day. Yeah, she gives me all that “we did tummy time today” jazz, but how long can that take?
Brooke will argue that even while I am home, she is the primary caretaker. Maybe so, but it takes a lot of energy at the end of my long, hard work day to pump Sydney’s arms or tickle her feet in order to keep her awake so she will sleep after midnight.
Please someone, give me the check mark on this one.
But the final, and most important, competition is the battle over Sydney’s love. Secretly, each parent wants to be the main apple of their baby’s eye.
This morning, Brooke told me that Sydney smiled at her. I quickly shot her down with the retort that the baby is too young to smile yet…at least to smile for a conscious reason of happiness. Brooke just got a reflex. My thinking? I can’t let Brooke claim that victory!
One of my favorite things to do is grab my child, sneak off to a hidden corner and ask over and over again, “Who is your best friend? Daddy is.” If I can somehow tell her this a million times over in the next few months, it will come true. I am playing subliminal mind tricks with a 6 week old.
I will step up my game soon and whisper the word “Da-Da” a few dozen times a night in hopes it will eventually be her first words.
Nevertheless, I am losing the battle because my wife – whom I have nicknamed “feedbag” – has the hunger-quenching milk Sydney craves every three hours. I feel like Sonny Bono or Art Garfunkle or Selena Gomez or Russell Brand….I am definitely the less glamorous and desired one in this duo.
It becomes obvious every time I’m holding her and she starts crying, only to have her mother come over, snatch her from my arms and make the noise disappear. Talk about putting dad in his place. If I ever had any illusions I was winning this competition, Sydney shatters them with the sounds of silence.
But it is only a matter of time before my subliminal messages kick in. I like to look at this as a race between the tortoise and hare. Brooke may be out to a big lead, but I have a lifetime to catch up.
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