I work 30 hours a week. Lately my poor Hoos has been working somewhere in the area of 60 hours a week. He isn't thrilled about it, and neither are we. But it is an exception and not the rule and so we deal with it.
Regardless of how many hours he is working, LP and I always look forward to when he comes home. He is a wonderful husband and father. He appreciates my hardwork and my parenting of LP. He is absolutely in love with LP, enjoys reading the same stories to her over and over, and he takes a very active role in her day-to-day care. He also is really appreciative that, more often than not, a home-cooked meal is ready and waiting when he gets in around 7:30 pm.
So why is it that I go out of my way to be sure he is getting the relaxation that he needs at the expense of my own peace and quiet? He doesn't complain but I often feel bad foisting LP on him shortly after he walks in the door.
This weekend I finally got a much needed haircut. My growing-in hair desperately needed professional help. The Hoos rushed in from work at 2:25 to take LP so I could rush out in time for my 2:30 appointment. And the whole time I was getting my haircut I kept looking at the clock. Not worrying that LP would be hungry or upset, just worried that "poor Hoos must be exhausted and I bet he sure could use a few minutes to himself."
My grandmother told me about a conversation she once had with my Aunt. My Aunt was going to be out of town and my Grandmother remarked, "Oh so will [my Uncle] be babysitting?" To which my Aunt accurately responded "No, he will be parenting."
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