Why We’re Wrong Wednesday – Mushy Brains and Kids

Our guest today gets a few things off her chest. I don’t know her husband but I hope he picked out a comfy couch. 

Dearest Dumb White Husband,

I’d been putting off sending you this note about why you are wrong because of the little niggling in the back of my mind saying I shouldn’t put a label on a group of individuals. Not all husbands are dumb, or white for that matter. So, I’m structuring this to speak directly to my own dumb white husband, to which both labels do apply, and if the situations below happen to ring true with other dumb white husbands who read it – we’ll call it a happy “meant to be” moment that everyone can learn from.


And with my disclaimer firmly in place, I’d like to ask my dumb white husband exactly why such an intelligent man’s brain turns to complete mush when it comes to our children?  Complete and utter mush.
 
You were there for the birth of both of our beautiful children. 

The most recent, only eight months old, was born a month early and spent several days in NICU.  It was a scary and trying time for us both. Not to mention, I nearly broke your arm off before the drugs set in during delivery. That being said, I honestly do not understand why you had to call me recently to ask our children’s birthdays. Really? The oldest one has six birthdays under her belt – couldn’t even get that one right?? This is why you are wrong.  If I ask you when the first Zelda was released and the date the newest one came out, you’d rattle off those dates like they are imprinted on the back of your eyelids.

Deep breath and we’ll move on.

I’ve seen you multi-task like a mofo. It’s impressive really. There was a day the kids and I stopped by your workplace and I saw you handle disgruntled employees, find missing checks, help me find my missing car keys left on another floor, take important phone calls, and answer emails – all with our eldest child in your lap or clung to your hip. Yet, when I left for a full Saturday to attend a writers’ conference, I had to leave you detailed instructions for care of our children. (Sidebar, yes we live in the same house.) When I walked into the house late that evening, our daughter who usually prefers you, clung to my legs and tattled on you with all the ferocity a ticked off six year could muster after such a trying day. 

You couldn’t feed them breakfast or lunch at the same time. You had to put the baby down for a nap, and then my poor daughter received her bowl of cereal – an entire hour after the first one was fed.

You couldn’t play with them at the same time. Each getting their own time slot meaning the other was either stuck in an exersaucer or had to entertain herself while the child slotted for play got your full attention. In what world does this happen?

You turned my living room into a war zone, allowing the kids to destroy it with no attempt to pick up a single toy. Not to mention, you didn’t clean a single dish dirtied or put a single bottle used in the dish washer. (This I deduced without any help from the tattler.)

You put the baby to bed without a bath. Yeah, the one who poops and pees in his pants didn’t get clean.  You said you absolutely could have, you just figured I’d handle it the next morning.

Do I really have to go on? Can you see the wrongness with the above situations? For the sanity and love of a good woman (ahem, me!) learn our children’s birthdays and attempt to pretend you can handle both our children at the same time. Or at least learn to bribe the oldest one into silence. Trust me, I do it all the time.

Melinda B. Pierce is an author hobbyist, mother of two, and self-proclaimed trophy wife – although her husband defines her as being more high maintenance than anything else.  When she has time she writes in almost every sub-genre of romance and refuses to follow the path of most resistance. Connect with her on twitter @MelindaBPierce


Thanks, Melinda. You’re right. We were wrong. I think we’ve all been guilty of a couple of these things. Maybe not all on the same day. Though, in our defense, Zelda did get here first. Still, it would be wise to know our child’s birthdays, if even for the fact that’s it probably also our PIN numbers.

 

Spread dumbShare on Facebook0Pin on Pinterest0Tweet about this on TwitterShare on Google+0Share on LinkedIn0Share on Tumblr0Share on StumbleUpon0Print this pageShare on Reddit0Email this to someone

Leave a comment