I'll pass on the clams, thanks.

Ugh. I was hoping for our family's sake it was food poisoning from the pasta and clams.

A nasty, horrible, be glad for indoor plumbing and the white noise machine in the baby's room next door flu hit our house this weekend. I got taken down on Thursday night, M went down Saturday night, and Baby A....well, she was just slower. Given that M and I were no-calories-in-my-body tired all weekend, having a slow, calm Baby A was actually a gift. She spent many minutes in a stroller, just sitting, watching the world go by. Not trying to stand up, or pull off her socks, or climb down the front, or rock it until it flipped over. And, snuggly A was back, too. That's the one I get all my cuddles in with to last me through the high energy times.

It was also a daddy weekend. Actually, it has been sort of a daddy month. I'm definitely the runner-up these days, and it is giving me time to practice not getting my feelings hurt. Just to go with it. Wanting to collapse on a bed for another 4-hour nap makes for a good mindset for this, too.

"You want to go with your papa instead? Oh....phew. Good. I'm going to go pass out again. Wake me if something starts to burn."

But I'm not always as gracious. It still stings to be the main caregiver and not the main go-to parent. But only because I think those two go hand in hand. M has never seemed to take it personally when she prefers me, other than being frustrated if it is his turn to attend to her at night. But it doesn't seem to hurt his feelings. Why? It isn't because he has none, or that they don't get hurt. I think it is because dads aren't supposed to be the ones a kid always goes to. It is the social convention. The "should" part, that keeps his ego intact, and makes my ego's lower lip quiver just a bit when she pushes my hand away but not his.

So I'm trying to go back to a better formula, that has worked before for me. Being a mom means knowing her the best, not being her favorite. It isn't a two-way arrow, at least not always, not necessarily. For me, being a mom has to be about knowing what she wants, and right now, it is her dad when he's around. And that's ok. Because it means I know my kid, which is more important to me really than being her favorite. Ok, I want it to be more important to me.

Just as with a bottle or some cough medicine, M should be in my bag of tricks. If A wakes up screaming (instead of crying), pacifier still in mouth, I should try a minute of calming and then carry her in to M. I can be pretty sure it is what she wants right now. And it keeps my sense of motherhood intact if it is based more on problem solving for her rather than being what and who she wants all the time.

Yeah, ok. So I'm going to go practice that now. Somehow.

And have some more Coke in a mug, because when you live with a toddler who wants to try everything you're having, but already knows that coffee isn't for babies but for adults, it is a small blessing that poured Coke looks a LOT like black coffee. M and I had a lot of "coffee" this weekend.