Why my husband isn't the Fun One

I love my husband.

It's like looking into my home at 5pm every day.

He is a fantastic, hands-on daddy. He's been involved in dirty diapers, kissing boo-boos, putting the baby to bed and all the other many things that come with parenting since day one. He does it all and doesn't complain. Seriously.

He's cheerful. He's easy-going. His daughters adore him. (Sometimes it borders on annoying when we argue and I want to hold a grudge for, say, 15 minutes, but he's already whistling and calling me "hun" by the time our yelling has ended.)

Anyway. There's something looming (that his mother will probably dislike me for...)

And that is a big... fat... but.

But.

He's so fantastic, BUT I really wish he could just take the path of least resistance with our toddler sometimes. Just once. (Okay, maybe twice.)

In parenting, you gotta pick your battles. As I'm sure we all know, it's really not worth it to fight over everything. Sometimes you have to stand your ground and tell your child no, they can NOT wipe their face on the table. Other times? If you think it'll avoid a battle - sure, have that popsicle right after breakfast. If it means I can drink my coffee hot for once.

But when it comes to Daddy, it's his way or the highway. Which really surprises me.

When I was pregnant, I remember thinking "He's totally going to be the Fun One. I'm going to be the one to tell the kids to brush their teeth while he rolls on the rug with them and tosses chocolate bars into their wide-open, laughing mouths."

Nope.

Instead, he argues with our 3-year old over almost everything. And the problem is? He will only win about 1/4 of the time. We have a toddler/preschooler. She is not rational. She does not make sense 90% of the time. When she wants her cereal in a red bowl, you better not try to talk her out of it, dammit. Because SHE WILL MAKE YOUR LIFE MISERABLE.

Yet, I seem to be able to find a way to reason with her most of the time. And, as you probably know if you read this blog, I so do not have the whole parenting thing figured out. I'm no toddler-whisperer.

But I'm bigger than Anna. And my 34 years in this world have fortunately made me a touch wiser than my 3-year old. And, therefore, I can tell her that the red bowl is dirty, but OH MY GOODNESS! YOU'RE SO LUCKY because the BLUE bowl is clean! I wish I could use the blue bowl. My cereal fits into it just right. Amazing!

So, as fantastic and great and wonderful a Daddy as he is, my husband drives me crazy on a near-regular basis.

Which leads me to the conclusion that he derives some sick pleasure from seeing me lose my hair at a rapid pace.

Or... he's a man.