Making it Up

When I married Peter, I never knew he would be such a great father. In fact, we both agreed that we would not have children. I had issues about being pregnant, which were totally unfounded, at least after I learned to disregard the way others felt about my choices, mainly not nursing. It just was not for me. For one, the vanity thing comes into play again, two, "equal roles" makes another appearance, and three, selfishness (yes, I can admit it). I had already sacraficed nine months of my body being hijacked by this little creature and there was no way I was going to have him controlling me anymore. I am the boss of me! If I had to wake up in the middle of the night to feed Little Pete, Peter would wake up for the next round of cries. I know some will be outraged when I say this, but it was a great thing.

There is nothing quite like experiencing your husband as a father. Especially a father whom you are confident takes as good of care of your child, if not better, than you. I do think Peter is a better parent than I am. First, he is simply a fabulous person. Second, he has just the right balance of wanting Pete to wear a joyous smile on his face, yet the desire to have him be well-adjusted child who understands respect, dignity and class. I tend to lose sight of those developing qualities when Little Pete is crying. On occasion, my heart melts and I accidentially give him all the ice cream he demands to soothe his pain of not getting his way! (I understand where he is coming from). This leads to the question/reprimand by Peter, "Cheddar, are you sure that was the best thing to do in the situation?" (As you can tell, the terms of affection in our family are anything but normal - I can't ever remember being called "babe" or "sweetie").

I strive to be as good at parenting as Peter, but we are in this together. We remind each other often of the best parenting advice I ever was given - we are all making it up as we go along. Nobody can plan exactly what they will do or say when you see your son walking around with your bra on his head; when he has dumped the entire box of cereal on the floor and is hitting the dog because she is eating it; or when he has discovered the joys of toilet paper and has shoved the entire roll in the right place - the toilet. But with Peter to guide me, I am confident we will figure it out. And hopefully, we will not have messed him up too badly.