Saint David

Saint David - image  on http://megactsout.comI don’t go around handing uber important religious titles to just anybody, but my husband’s behavior lately definitely merits it. Maybe a knighthood, too. We’ll see.

Don’t get me wrong – putting up with me and my (ahemmoodinessahem) idiosyncrasies day in and day out probably earned him sainthood before we even got married. Lately, though, he’s got Super Hubby written all over him.

You see, this week was my Return to Work. (Yes, it’s so important it needs full-blown capitalization. Be grateful I’m not messing with the bold/underline/italics toggles!) My first time being away from Hadley for more than a couple of hours at a time – and there were only two or three of those getaways, tops. It was agonizing, and I’m sure equally as agonizing for my husband.

For several reasons (not being on a great schedule yet, still seeming a tad “young” for daycare, finances, and more), we’re lucky enough to be able to take Dave’s mom up on her offer to watch him. Talk about saints, this woman also watches my sister’s cutie pie, who’s about to turn one year-old. Two babies, varying ages (ie varying needs…varying levels of activity and movement…varying insanity!). Whew!

Yesterday was my first day back, although it was a Superintendent’s Conference Day (less hands-on work meant time to think about the baby and how he was doing), and today’s the first day with students and classes (lots of work, ie distractions to keep my mind occupied…kind of). I can’t tell which is worse. I’m progressively getting better, but the tears still hit occasionally, in random fashion. The thing getting me to push through it is the thought that millions upon millions of women have done this before me, and that I should suck it up and just get used to it. *sigh*

But, I digress. Why is my husband up for sainthood? I hate to brag, but he has ROCKED. Because his mom lives in the city in which he works (vs. 45 minutes from where I work), he has both dropped off and picked up the little guy. All I’ve had to do is figure out our schedule to get them out the door at the right time. Well, okay, I’ve done a tad more than that, but the hard part is really on Dave’s shoulders. He not only got his work schedule adjusted, but has become instantly more confident in his parenting in the process. It’s incredible.

Here’s a sample of our morning: After Dave gets up to shower and get ready around 5:45 (neither of us is a “morning person”, so this is miraculous to say the least), I get Hadley up at 6 (he’s been fussing, but still asleep) for a changing and to settle in for a solid feeding. While I breastfeed, Daddy puts the final touches on what we’ve prepped the night before — putting the icepack in the milk cooler to bring, throwing a lunch together (for BOTH of us — this is perhaps the 2nd time he’s ever done this for me, and I think it’s the sweetest thing ever), making breakfast(!), scooping kitty litter, plus going through his own mental checklist of work stuff. They’re out the door by 7am, so I have about an hour to get ready, having already eaten my yummy oatmeal (side note: he puts blueberries in it, and, in mine, maple syrup, brown sugar, and some cinnamon so it’s almost like a blueberry muffin — delish, AND it boosts milk supply!).

We do a lot of night-before prep, like making sure there’s milk thawing for the next day in the fridge, taking a shower (I take mine and give Hadley a bath), washing all the breast pump stuff, prep lunches (today’s was more complicated, though – reminiscent of my old, healthy, snack-inspired pregnancy lunches), etc. While the organization is helpful to my anxiety-riddled mind, I don’t mind admitting that I’m giddy over the thought of Friday night, with its list-free schedule and some sort of easy take-out dinner option.

So, what else makes Dave so great? Other than, simply, what a great father he is, he’s had a daddy blog since before I gave birth. Peruse through it and see if you can pick out the charms that have made me fall in love all over again since having Hadley.