
Wow.
I've spent a lot of years bragging about how if my wife would just make enough money, I'd stay at home and be Mr. Mom.
I'm not backing off that statement, but I am realizing how amazingly stupid I've been.
Nothing about being solely responsible for Zeke is easy. (And he is a fantastically easy baby to care for!)
My job Wednesday? Get him up, fed, dressed and delivered to Grammy's so I could run some errands with John (all by approximately 9:30am).
Up? Good.
Fed? Check.
Dressed? Yep, and everything down to the pacifier holder matched.
Of course this wouldn't be worth sharing if it went as planned. Approximately 7 seconds before we walked out the door, Zeke chose (I'm still not convinced it was an accident, no matter how many times he's apologized since) to spit up all over the front of his adorable outfit and various parts of the carseat. Zeke rarely spits up, (I know...we're lucky) although trips to Lubbock activate his allergies so that he does some really heavy duty (think the Exorcist) vomiting, so I know it was merely his way of challenging my parental authority.
So I did one of the things I promised I would never do. I actually said, "Zeke, why would you do something like that?" Never mind he's only 5 months old, that would be a stupid question if he was 35 and had a PhD! So after getting over my considerable typical guy reaction. I stripped him down, cleaned the car seat, actually started the washer with the soiled outfit and various other baby gear, redressed the little guy (again in a matching outfit, go ME!) and started towards the door. Only to realize that in the process of cleaning him up, I got it all over me!
All that to say, I was about an hour late.
Jill does this Monday through Friday and makes it to work on time. I couldn't even do it once.
All hail Mrs. Mom.