I guess my husband and I just really are true opposites. Some would say that we compliment each other well... and I would agree with that, with the exception of the days when we're at each other's throats because of our differences. All in all, we're really happy together. We are best friends on most days (except when I'm with my mom or Cilla... they just understand me all too well because they are SO much like me). Brad and I have survived a lot of hills and valleys, probably more than anything because I have a very patient husband who is willing to deal with my obnoxious mouth, hotheadedness, and stubborness. Sometimes that very patience is what makes me want to kill him... but more often than not, it's what makes me love him so much.
As parents, I can see these same roles even more defined. I am usually always the "bad guy" with the kids... enforcing the rules, threatening to "bust a butt" or take a toy away, and always the one who loses my cool or gets stubborn about some ridiculous little rule that no one in their right mind would really care about. It's just after saying things 100 times a day and being ignored 99 of those times, I get frustrated and decide that I will MAKE them listen to me. Sometimes it works, but more often I look like a raving lunatic. I get the fun parts of my children's lives because I'm home with them more than Brad, but I also get the bad part of being the disciplinarian. Not an easy job. But it wouldn't be that bad if I could just have a little more patience like Brad. (Don't get the big head, honey... I'm still pretty stubborn and probably won't ever admit this again!)
All of these thoughts were going through my mind tonight as I rocked my little blonde baby boy to sleep. I had a perfect example of my lack of patience and my husband's over abundance of it right after bath time. Yes, after bath time, Bailey always wants her daddy to get her out of the tub. This hasn't really bothered me, mainly because it forces Brad to help me and I can just get my wild man Jake out of the tub and dressed. So, I've known why Bailey wants her daddy for a while, but really took the time to think about it tonight. You see, Brad takes the time to wrap her up in a towel like a baby, holds her in front of the mirror and says, "Is that my baby girl?" and then allows her to jump on her bed naked for as long as she wants. Every night I spoil the fun by coming in and making her get dressed. Why? I don't know. I think that's what has been on my mind tonight. Why must she get dressed on my time schedule? Who died and made me keeper of the clock? So, I was "enforcing" my rule tonight when Brad just looked at me and said, "I told her I'd get her dressed when she was ready." Well, knowing Bailey that wouldn't happen until midnight... but he was right and I was wrong. He gave her permission and I tried to take it away. I was doing what I hate for him to do to me... I was going over his head. So... I quickly shut up. Yes, she is finally dressed and all is fine in the world. Maybe it's time for me to take the advice that my brothers and I always gave my dad when we were kids... Take a chill pill. :)
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