Daddy Daycare

I had to work today and Brad took another vacation day to stay with Connor. Thankfully my dad and stepmom will be home on Sunday. Connor is going to be so happy to see his Mimi when she gets home! And Papa too of course! I have read various emails in which daddy's have been made out to be terrible babysitters. These emails were usually accompanied by pictures of children with food all over them, in toilets, eating out of dog bowls, etc. Thankfully our children are in better hands with their father. But not that much better. I drove into the garage tonight and climbed the stairs leading into our den and was met by a MSU football player screaming, "Mommy!!!" at the top of his lungs. I was face to face with a mean looking helmet complete with chin guard and a missing tooth lunging over the baby gate to give me a bear hug. This MSU player was no other than Tucker, my six year old. I looked over his shoulder as I was maneuvering my way over the baby gate to see my 17 month old, tee toddling over to me, blond curly hair bobbing, smiling, with a toothbrush in his mouth. Brad was lounging comfortably in our big comfy chair waving hello in an exhausted manner. Once I got a nice slobbery toothbrush kiss from Connor I asked my husband, "Where did he get the toothbrush?" His reply, "I don't know."
"Well, did he go upstairs?" I asked.
"I don't know." Brad said, thinking about it for a minute then said, "Maybe he did." Immediately a picture flashed through my mind of my precocious 17 month old prowling through the vanity cabinets in the boys bathroom which do not have safety locks on them because I don't keep anything dangerous in them. Or so I thought. The second string of questions directed at my husband came out in rapid fire, "Is this a new toothbrush? Did he get it out of a package? Or was it Tucker's? Is it wet?" All of my questions were met with, "I'm hungry, what are we going to eat?"
With that, ladies and gentlemen, I walked upstairs to my bedroom with a football player and toothbrush toting toddler at my heals to change clothes. One thing about being the only female in the house is that no one understands the relevance of privacy. Every time I go upstairs to change my clothes, take a shower, or use the bathroom, I have a shadow. I don't know what else to do at this point other than put a dead bolt on the doors. Brad is not any better than the kids. He grew up with a brother so I am sure that they never gave thought to walking in on each other in the bathroom. I am constantly telling Tucker, "Don't walk in a door that is closed with out knocking first." Does he understand what I am telling him? No. Sometimes I wonder if the three males in my house comprehend anything I say . Maybe it sounds like Latin to them? Connor gets a break at this age because I am still not sure about what he understands and what he doesn't. The other two should know better by now.

By the time I had changed clothes, Connor had found another toothbrush, this one I knew to be unused. I had to pry both of the toothbrushes out of his hands while he was screaming at me. Then he went into a full blown tantrum. I had him calmed down with an Elmo video and a hot dog while the rest of us could eat dinner. Then the time came to take a bath. Connor likes his bath, the problem is that he likes it too much. We had fun for about ten minutes, and then it was time to get him bathed and out before he turned into a raisin. Brad came upstairs to help me because getting our toddler out of the bathtub is a two person job. I hit the stopper to let the water drain out and Connor goes prostrate into the water in order to keep us from picking him up. Thankfully he kept his little head up or he would have drank most of the water in the bathtub. I struggled to get a good hold on his slippery little arms without gripping hard enough to hurt him or leave a bruise. Every time I started to lift the little stinker would sink himself back down onto the bottom of the tub. Brad's job was to hold the towel and have it ready when I finally wrenched the child from the tub. I believe we have the entire operation wrong, he should be the one getting Connor out, and I should be the towel holder. Well, we all know about hindsight. I finally managed to get one hand around his left armpit and the other hand on the underside of his right thigh and lifted him triumphantly out of the tub and handed him over to Brad. Our taking him out of the bathtub must have just been about all that his little mind could take because the tantrum that followed lasted at least 10 minutes. Have you ever tried to put a diaper and pajamas on a wild animal? I have, but instead of an animal, it is my son. I have developed many tactics to get his diapers on, only to have them work once and then the little guy will anticipate my movements the next time around and I have to go back to the drawing board. By the time I had his diaper on and half of his pjs buttoned I was sweating and he was hysterical. All I could do at this point was sit back and let him have it out. Finally I said, "Connor, you want to come to mommy?" he shook his head no. "Connor, are you going to cry all night." Yes. "Okay, well mommy is going bye bye." I got up and walked out of his room and low and behold there he comes after me, arms outstretched, red puffy eyes, and exhausted.
Now, both kids are in bed. Tucker is happy because he was able to watch Star Wars the Clone Wars on Cartoon Network with his dad. Connor is happy because he was able to sit in my lap and watch Barney with a warm bottle. I am happy because I can finally go to bed, after a long day.