My wife makes this stuff look easy.
I took a solo run at the parenting helm this past week. My wife was out of town at a conference, which meant I was left to manage the domestic ship all by my lonesome. And I’ve got to say, three days in: My wife makes this stuff look easy.
I sent her off with a hug, a kiss and a reassuring look, desperately trying to convince her that all would be well. It dawned on me about 30 minutes in that I had failed to gather all the fine points of detail on the nuanced balancing act that is my kids’ daily calendars. Before she even hit the airport, I was texting my request for full play-by-play to be remitted to me via email. She of course knew every practice and play date off the top of her head and had the deets to my inbox before she hit the security x-ray. She makes this stuff look easy.
I did my best, mind you. I think I’m a pretty good dad. I’m invested. I love my kids. I show up for all the big moments. I sit down with homework most nights. I cook on occasion. But managing all my responsibilities—and her’s when she’s away—is a task I tend to butcher, if I’m being honest. I’m a decent version of Dad; I’m a horrible substitute for Mom. Because she makes this stuff look easy.
Things ran long for me at work yesterday. That means I arrived at school pick-up in the wrong car, and had to cram four kids in a space meant for three. Torqueing and teetering under the pressure, I toggled a laser focus between my profession and my progeny—only to discover I was less than sharp at either. Jen does the same multi-tasking thing too. Only she makes this stuff look easy.
I’m just not as good as her in so many things. Just ask my kids. They’ll confirm my below average marks. I don’t pack lunches very well. I’m terrible at making the bed. I try my best to be patient, but the cacophony in the car sometimes causes me to blow my stack. I want the house to remain clean. I just seem incapable of making it so in quite so lovely a way as Jen. Candidly, I barely make it out of the house having showered, and I don’t even have to comb my hair. She does all that and more, and looks gorgeous doing it. I’m telling you… she makes this stuff look easy.
Today, I took the day off work and invited my kids to SeaWorld. I figured I’d focus all my attention on the four most important little feet walking the planet. And I did. That is until I had some kind of strange allergic reaction somewhere between the sharks and the shell fish exhibit. My eye became so swollen it nearly closed for business entirely. And as I stood there in line for the roller coaster, digging through the backpack for time sensitive snacks and attempting to deftly settle the arguments of who would board which amusement ride first… As I tried to snap pictures for posterity, encourage little anxieties and squint through a swole-shut eye lid, I thought to myself something I should have emblazoned on my next t-shirt: My wife makes this stuff look easy.
Here’s to you, moms. Thanks for all you do to make the world go ‘round—and for making it look as easy as you do.