“Let us put men and women together, and see which one is smarter. Some say men, but I say No! Women got the men like a puppet show.” ~ Harry Belafonte
Here is something I have learned since becoming a wife and a mom. I, as the woman, am the keeper of all knowledge. I love it when my husband offers to help. Until five minutes later. This is when I realize, that although his intentions are good, he is incapable of actually helping with anything more than sitting in front of the TV with the child.
Him, as I walk towards the door, hoping for an uninterrupted hour of writing: Wife, wait! What are we eating for dinner?
Boy: I want to go to the mall and have pizza!
Me: Great, why don’t you guys go to the mall?
Husband: Do you have any money?
Me: Really? Here’s 40 bucks.
Somehow we all wind up in the laundry room searching for shoes and coats at the same time. I don’t want to set him up, but as he reaches for the door knob I say: Do you have the epi-pens?
Him: Oh, no. Can you get them for me?
Scenario #1 I come home at 10pm: the husband has just put a feature-length movie on for the boy to watch.
Scenario #2 I come home at 10pm: the husband is asleep on the couch and the boy is channel surfing Netflix.
Scenario #3 I come home at 10pm: the husband and the boy are playing Wii fit, they have been doing the obstacle course for 90 minutes, and the child is actually wheezing.
Me: Husband, do you hear him?
Husband: Hear what?
Me: Your boy, he’s wheezing.
All the while the kid is so excited that he has beaten his poppy at everything they have played that he is excitedly telling me the whole story, talking over this whole conversation, in his high-pitched helium-sounding voice that always accompanies an asthma attack.
Me, to my husband: Do you know where the inhaler is?
Husband: (Blank Stare)
Me to the boy: Isaiah, go get your inhaler.
Me to the Blank Stare: When he sound’s like that, he’s starting to have an asthma attack. When you hear that squeaking sound, he needs his inhaler.
Husband: Oh, I thought he was just coughing a little.
Me: I could hear him wheezing when I walked in the door.
Husband: He’s fine.
Boy comes back: Here it is mom!
Me: Great sweetie, do you want to show your poppy how to do the inhaler?
Boy: Sure! Look poppy it’s just like this!
Now for everyone out there who is reading this and saying, “Yeah, well, if she just showed her dear husband all of that stuff then he would know how to take care of his son’s asthma properly.” To you Judgey-McJudgers, I would like you to know that not only have I showed him all that “stuff”, but I have also written out instructions ON the actual bottles and containers should dear husband forget my instructions. The frightening thing is that I truly believe there would have to be a life threatening emergency for my husband to realize this is a life threatening illness.
It’s my fault for making it look effortless, I get it. I’m really special, superwoman.
Nope. Not even. I’m a mom. A mom whose job it is to protect my son from whatever I can. (Can you say Mama Bear?) Have a listen – some of the happiest times in my life happened while hearing this song explain it to you:
My friend The Sadder but Wiser Girl wrote a post so much like this that it is eerie. If you relate, then click here to read Is Anyone Listening???
If you liked this post, show me some love and click the button. I’m thinking after this post, I deserve it!