It can be a little heartbreaking sometimes, the feeling that you’re not the favourite parent.
After all, it was I that carried our little one for nine months, safe in my tummy. It was I that underwent the trauma of birth. It is I that has lovingly persisted with breastfeeding, despite my desire to wean. And it is I that has lost hours and hours of sleep settling our little one in the night.
I therefore feel I have every right to stick out my bottom lip and sulk when I am literally told to “shoo” by my tot, who only wants to play with Daddy!!
It’s not a new thing. Indeed one of the first posts I ever wrote on this blog was about how my then 10 month old hated me. It’s quite funny to read back now, as I know he of course didn’t hate me…it can just very much feel like that sometimes!
And I guess I get it. I’m the boring one. The one that says “No!” to keep our tot safe. The one that forces our tot to eat healthy food over sausages and chips. The one that does the dreaded nap and bedtime routines.
Daddy, of course, is the cool one! The one that plays. The one that has an awesome car and rides an awesome motorbike. The one that our tot cries to when Mummy is mean and says “No!” And of course, the one that has the boy thingy that Mummy doesn’t have (yes, they start to realize this at a very young age, much to my horror / amusement!)
It was funny the other day then, when my husband commented upon how many lovely snuggles our son – who was a little under the weather – had given him that day.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Well, I never usually get snuggles from him” he replied.
“Really!? Are you sure? I get them all the time!” I replied back.
“He gives way more snuggles to you” my husband affirmed.
Oh! It’s something that I had seriously never consciously registered. Looking back though, it’s true. Whenever snuggles are being handed out, it’s usually me that gets them… (i.e. I snapped this picture as I typed this).
The other day too, when our tot had trapped his finger, it was me – Mummy – that he ran to for comfort and kisses. And it was only I that was allowed to kiss the poorly finger better – Daddy was indeed told to “shoo”.
It’s funny then – I guess I spend so much time dwelling on the fact that I am not the favourite parent that I overlook all the times that I am. When it comes to comfort and cuddles and safety, it is me – Mummy – who our darling boy turns to. Mummy, the boring one…because boring is sometimes good.
But Daddy! What about Daddy?! Well, Daddies definitely need snuggles too. It must be exhausting being the fun one all the time…
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