Note: This is the second in a series of occasional guest posts from my wife, Amy, who swoops in to give us a working wife’s perspective on parenting.
January 26, 2010
Checking my phone after walking out of the Hilton I see a text from Jeff which reads: “I don’t think we will go out today. She won’t let me put any pants on her.” I laugh out loud and realize how vastly different our days are. I had just been in a room filled with hundreds of people; including fundraisers, philanthropists, Austin’s elite. He is just hoping he can go to the grocery store without a meltdown. The texts don’t improve although they continue to be comical: “She just had a fit. I wouldn’t let her go outside without shoes on.” And they continue for a time, mostly about yard work and errands and impending weather. I soon had to get back to meetings.
I left on time again today. Miracle. By 5:10 he is texting me, “Did u leave yet?” Calling him, I first heard her and could tell his day was trying to say the least. I managed to get a few words in before he said in a high-pitched sing-songy way, “Good byeeee.” And that, was that.
My challenges at work have been mounting lately. I look at Jeff and I can’t even compare our challenges. Fundraising is tough, but equally tough is a defiant child who refuses to wear pants. How can they compare? I think that’s the secret to our marriage. We don’t compare our situations. They are both tough, and in different ways. Neither of us would probably want to be in the other’s place.
When I get home she has no pants on, just her sparkly red dress—the only thing she’d wear, apparently. The meltdowns did not go away either, but we managed and now have cracked open a bottle of Mad Housewife Chardonnay. But who’s the mad housewife? Not me, but I’ll still enjoy a glass.