Last night CD was out late and mentioned to me that he would probably skip church. He was in the middle of a project anyway-- making a wooden bin for firewood in our driveway. I figured the kids would join me and he'd get some work done. But we woke up late- (by "woke up" I mean, we knew the kids were up and playing, but we hadn't acknowledged that it was time for us to get up yet) at 8:30 and church starts at 9:30 about 20 minutes from here. I leaped into the shower. CD had the choice of rushing to get the boys dressed and fed and then have time alone, or to take his time with them but have to work with "help". He, in turn, gave them the choice. I dressed, ate and left.
What were we thinking? Of course they chose to stay home. Sunday school with Mama or power tools with Daddy? Hurry to get dressed and eat fast, or hang out in PJ's and see if Daddy will turn on a DVD? Go to church with Mama or have a Daddy Day?
"Daddy Days" at my house are part of the regular week. I discovered that staying at home with a baby for five straight days suddenly made me the One-Who-Was-To-Know-The-Answers to the New-Pink-Crying-Eating-Pooping baby we now had. And so I found a nearby yoga class on Saturday mornings and I left. "Here's a bottle. He last ate an hour ago. I just diapered him. Love you both, bye." And as Pook learned his days of the week they went like this:
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Daddyday.
They'd hang out at home or they'd go to the library. CD learned how to answer and not-know-the-answer-because-who-really-does-anyway all those baby questions for himself. This routine worked until sports started taking over Saturday mornings. I'd begun going to a weekday yoga class by then and Pook was in a Parents Morning Out program two days a week. Getting away wasn't as important on Saturdays as it once had been. By then CD and I could even handle having the then-new Bug in the mix. Daddy Days began to simply mean The Weekends.
And if they include power tools, Mama and church have no chance.
I have to admit: when Bug asked me if he wanted to go to church or stay home, and his eyes got big and he said "I want to stay home with YOU, Daddy," I couldn't resist. I only have a few more years of Daddy-adulation before they outgrow it, and I intend to milk it for all it's worth.
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