#1 Dad

Jack had just turned 2 and Ace was a month old when the flu hit our house. I got sick first, shitting and puking for 24 hours straight while also pumping breast milk and feeding Ace around the clock every 3 hours. Luckily, I was mostly recovered by the time it hit Jack & John, at almost the exact same time in the middle of the night. It was the first time Jack had ever puked and he was so tired and scared and had no clue what was happening. There was no "puking in the bucket", it was just pure mayhem of puking all over his bed. After the third or fourth time of changing out his blankets & sheets, I offered to sleep in his bed with him and try to at least help him puke in the bucket. John returned from his latest puke session and said "No, I'll sleep with him". Without any room in the toddler bed for him, he proceeded to drag our dog's bed into Jack's room and curl up next to him, with the thick stench of puke everywhere. In that moment, I was like DAMN, what a motherfucking DAD.

John is always doing things like that. He is the BEST dad and I don't tell him that enough because I don't want him to get a big head. Of course, he is the more "fun" parent- constantly playing and wrestling and making up funny dances & songs. But he is also tough- enforcing time outs and pooping on the potty and diligent about teeth brushing. He teaches Spanish (en Español, maMA!), he teaches about bugs, he teaches about the proper way to pick up baby chicks. He uses pretty much any experience as a learning opportunity. He's like a goddamn children's show host, the really annoying and positive kind. John takes our kids on long hikes in the mountains, he takes them to parks, he takes them swimming in rivers & lakes, he takes them everywhere. He takes them out of the house when he can tell I've had a long day (Mama needs a BREAK!). When he was on paternity leave after Ace was born, he took over bringing Jack to the small town library's weekly story time and then infiltrated my "mom friend" group and went to playtime and coffee with them every Tuesday. When I started going back, he'd ask "How are my girls doing?"

John goes to every single doctor's appointment, he does bedtime stories nearly every night, he does the baths and the dirty diapers. He researches and sets up and contributes to the college funds. He makes sure they eat the fruit and the vegetables (I'm more of an Easy Mac parent myself), and he makes sure they get enough play dates with other kids (I'm more of a recluse myself). He organizes trips and he researches potty training techniques. In short, he is a much better mother than I am most days.

I'm guilty of taking him for granted, I'll be the first to admit it. We go about our days, with him doing most of the work, while I float along drinking too much wine or locking myself away with a really good book. Then sometimes I meet another family and can easily see right away how much of a better dad John is than your average dad. They say comparison is the thief of joy, but I think that's only if you are the one with the shitty husband. I doubt my parenting skills (daily, sometimes hourly) but at least I know John will always be there to pick up the slack and mother the hell out of my kids.