My hubs is a champ. Truly. As my mother would promptly say upon hearing this scenario “Your father would never have even thought of offering to do that.”
The annual girls’ trip to the Outer Banks was looming and he was faced with an invitation to Colonial Downs with babysitter at home taking care of the kids or going away to his family’s river house for the weekend.
Shockingly, he chose the latter. He chose to pack up three kids ages nine, six, and three and all of their respective stuff (including groceries!) and schlep to the Northern Neck for the weekend. And there weren’t even any grandparents around.
I have to admit, I was impressed. I couldn’t have blamed him for going to Strawberry Hill and joining other friends of ours enjoying a day of reckless abandon in the summer sun. Instead, it took him approximately three hours (from what I could tell from grunts and groans on the other end of the phone) to pack up. When the kids would say “What’s taking so long to leave?” He’d snidely answer: all of you crazy hoodlums! as they ran around wildly, itching to get the first sniff of rivah air.
We talked often over the weekend, during which my girlfriends and I enjoyed sleeping in, lounging on the beach, and dining out, while he made homemade pancakes for breakfast and cooled off in the afternoon sun by jumping in the river with the kids. “That was hard,” he humbly admitted as we reviewed the weekend’s events. But I knew he was pretty proud of himself for attempting–and acheiving–a true “dad’s weekend” without the help of grandparents.
Ya know what, my dad never would have done that. Times have changed from when men didn’t change diapers and ask for their cocktail at the door after work (or at least I think they have. They clearly are over at my house!)
And sadly, I’ll never have that experience of having alone time with my daddy like my kids (on occasion) do. I think they’re pretty lucky.