Daddy's Little Man

I am completely and utterly shattered, I am in the center of disappointment and shadowed in darkness. I am completely destroyed.


Darren's definitely said Dada before Mama.

All you mothers out there should understand why I feel distressed.

I should have seen it coming though.

I started noticing last week that Darren always wanted the hubby. Not for anything special, just to play. I just attributed it to that he liked being twirled around and tossed up in the air several times. I didn’t see it for the disguise it was. His baby giggles held me captive and pulled the wool over my eyes. I actually took it as a relief.  Then I came home the other day and all I heard was.

“Dadadadadadadadadadadadadadadadadadada.”

“That’s my little Lingle. Dada.” The hubby said.

Then I discovered they had a secret language.

“Hey Lingle. “Dddddddddddsssssssssssst.” The hubby’s tongue is a pressed against the roof of his mouth and the backs of his top front teeth. I can see little flick of spit spray out as he does it.

Darren responds in turn, but he had more drool and bubbles coming out of his mouth. “Ddddddddddsssssssst. Dddddddsssssssssssst.”

Then the other night I had to witness the head shaking routine. The hubby would shake his head back and forth and Darren would watch him intently. Because this looked like ridiculous fun Darren would copy him.  For about five minutes they sat there just shaking their heads back and forth thinking it was hilarious.

You have got to be kidding me.

Ok, I am not destitute. I don’t feel like a failure as a mother, and I am nowhere near depressed about the situation. I am just determined to have baby number two say Mama first when she comes.

But Darren has definitely become daddy’s little man. When the hubby walks in the room it all eyes on Daddy and if daddy doesn’t notice, he is going to scream his head off until he does.

Then they proceed to have serious conversations about meatloaf, the Cowboys, why daycare is the coolest, and how to con mommy into changing all the dirty diapers.

And then I can’t find the backbone to really be upset with the hubby.

All of the baby books talk about how the dad will be feeling left out in the early stages of a child’s life because of the bond that he/she will have with their mother.

But none of them talk about how the mommy will feel once they do start bonding. It’s wonderful. Beautiful really. Amazing.

Until we find that we do have a bit of parental jealous streak running through our veins. Because we are by nature nurtures and it could not be possible that our babies could need anything other than us right? Wrong.

So, I hold my peace and refrain from unsportsmanlike conduct. Because to be completely honest, I could never explain they hubby’s mysterious fascination with the word meatloaf, or run an accurate man to man zone cover defense or call a pick six the second before it happens. I will never master the art of ‘running game,’ or talking to girls.

But what I do know is revenge is sweet.

So I send a little prayer up to God and ask for a little pink package for when the next child comes around.

Because what little boys learn from becoming Daddy’s Little Man, little girls can learn from mommy about becoming women and most importantly getting daddy wrapped around her little finger.

I’ll play fair, but I do plan to even the scoreboard.

The Dirty Laundry Fetish

The laundry and I are holding an uneasy truce. All the clean clothes are in three baskets piled in the bedroom, while all the dirty clothes occupy the floor in front of the laundry machine. The dryer is rumbling and the washer is waiting patiently to feed it its fifth load of laundry.

We have come to an impasse because I promised to keep up with laundry if the laundry promised to stop enticing the hubby. I have very low hopes in the laundry, because the hubby has a dirty laundry fetish and can be very persuasive.

You don’t believe me.

You should. Ever since I’ve known the hubby he has been a dirty clothes diver. It never matters if he knows (because I’ve told him) that certain baskets are dirty clothes. He gets some perverted pleasure in digging through piles of laundry for a semi clean shirt he can wear inside out.  I am glad to report that this fetish extends to clean clothes too.

But clean laundry is also off limits. Before you think I am abusing him, there is a reason. This man will unfold a whole basket of white t-shirts just to find the ‘whitest’ one. The kicker is that he is going to wear it as an undershirt. My mom says the simple solution is to hang all of them up. I just issue an ultimatum.

“Baby, all clothes either in front of the washer or in a basket are off limit, or else. Do you understand me?”

“Now, why do these special rules have to be made?” He says this with a sly look on his face.

He knows why.

He is going to convince the laundry to commit the biggest sin; to cheat on me.

Yeah, I know, the jerk.

But the laundry and I went to couples therapy and we sorted things out.  It told me that I never paid enough attention to it. I complained that the laundry was a home wrecker, always looking to split us up by tempting the hubby and encouraging his dirty fetish. That’s why we have both made promises to change and give the other more attention.

It is also the reason we have a date tonight.