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Careful What You Wish For by Ashley Williams Ellis
Nothing melts my heart more than those three little words: “I want Mommy!”
Even so, with the impending arrival of Baby Ellis #2, my husband and I jointly decided to begin having him play a more central role in our toddler’s care. The idea behind our thinking was that if Mommy was busy with the baby, our son would feel equally comfortable going to Dad. In theory I thought, great. In practice, I missed my clingy little boy who thought his mommy ruled the world.
Over the course of several weeks, every time Ian reached for me, my husband would quickly scoop him up. As my stomach grew, my husband became the one to carry Ian to bed. My husband rocked him quietly to sooth him after taking a tumble in the park. My husband buckled him into his car seat, handing him his favorite yellow stuffed duck that had become a frequent passenger in our car.
As much as I appreciated the help and saw how much Ian enjoyed spending time with Dad, at times I wanted to say, all right already, it’s my turn with the baby.
Just this past Sunday in church, Ian sat happily on my lap, clapping along with the bell choir and kicking his chubby legs in time to the music. My husband reached over and picked him off my lap, whispering, “I’ll take him.” I didn’t want him to take him. I wanted to enjoy this moment with my toddler who would one day be too big to sit in my lap, or too big to want to. I wanted to feel his soft, sticky arms against my arms and the weight of his head leaned back against my chest. I wanted to listen to the music through his ears, matching my toe tapping to his erratic leg swinging. I wanted Mommy time.
This rush of jealousy caught me completely off guard. I didn’t want to be one of those parents whose wants conflicted with their child’s needs. Wasn’t I the grown up? Wasn’t I supposed to handle my emotions and not stomp my feet in terrible twos fashion if things weren’t how I liked them?
Instead of jealousy, I should be pleased, I reasoned. Our plan was working.
I’d like to tell you that my epiphany came that quickly. It took a little longer.
I
understand all about renaissance men who work in corporate
You see, I’m a true believer that mommies possess some magical power to heal skinned knees, kiss away tears, and fix the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Yet, I have to admit, my husband also possesses that special parent magic. He’s caring and thoughtful, gentle and loving. He can play on the floor for hours, building forts out of pillows and blankets and stack impossibly high towers of large green Lego blocks. I’ve even caught him attempting to stuff his full-size adult body into spaces no one over three feet should venture.
He is a man completely in love with his child, who takes his responsibilities as a dad extremely seriously. He’s a living “how-to” guide on how to be a great dad.
Watching my son and husband together, it’s difficult to argue against the benefits of our new arrangement. I watch as Ian and his dad create a language understood only by the two of them.
The other day, Ian ran to his playroom and returned with a white and red striped hat, identical to the one worn by the Cat in the Hat. He handed it wordlessly to my husband who placed the felt cap snugly on his head. Ian laughed, obviously delighted by my husband’s performance. Ian raised one small, chubby finger, as if to say “wait” and immediately ran to his book basket. Tossing others aside, he triumphantly held up his coveted Dr. Seuss book and handed this to my husband. After crawling up into his dad’s lap, Ian snuggled close to listen to his dad read, with gusto I might add, aloud.
Since the change, I’ve noticed my son’s growing independence and watched his confidence soar as he bravely tries new things. He’s unafraid of failing.
Our little boy is growing up.
Equally as rewarding, I’ve watched my husband’s confidence as a parent increase multi-fold. While I was pregnant, my husband once confided to me his apprehensions about becoming a parent, having lacked a solid father figure as a child. I wasn’t worried, but he was, thinking that without a model to pattern his behavior after, he might fail his child the way his father failed him. Watching the two of them together, I can’t help but smile at how unfounded his worries were.
Our son, a happy and loving child, basks in the glow of both of his parents’ approval and affections. He benefits from the gifts that each of us is able to give. He’s learning to appreciate nature and love the outdoors. He’s exploring art and reading. He understands the true significance of full belly laughing. Maybe most importantly, he’s learning the skills he will someday need to become a wonderful husband and father. My dearest wish is that he’ll grow up knowing how much he’s cherished, and how wonderfully he’s forever changed our lives.
I was wrong. This is exactly what I wanted. My wants have magically, like a mother’s kiss, fallen in line with my child’s needs.
Last night, Ian toddled over to me, clean from his bath, clad in dump truck pajamas and grinning ear to ear, and plunked his perfect little body into my lap. He wrapped his arms around my neck bringing his face into mine. I gently moved my nose side-to-side, rubbing his pug nose to give him a kiss, Eskimo-style. He laughed and rubbed his nose back-and-forth to kiss me back.
This is exactly what I wanted.
Ashley Williams Ellis lives and writes in Cincinnati, Ohio. Between nap time and play groups, she manages to write for All About Kids magazine, Ohio magazine, and Children's Hospital. Prior to quitting the corporate world to concentrate on raising her children, Ashley worked as a reporter, as a speech writer, and as a public relations specialist.
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