You’ve been doing a great job with our littlest one these last couple of months.
I know you miss your job. I know you miss making television as much as you do telling people what to do and occasionally having them listen instead of crying, running away or howling in wordless rage. I know you love our tiny tyrant even as you wonder what comes next for you.
I’ve seen this all, but I didn’t understand just how hard you’re treading water until I asked you about the salmon.
“Hey, hon–did you put the salmon in the fridge last night?” I asked, poking around the fridge in search of it.
I expected a “yes” or “no.” Instead, tears slid down your cheeks as you whispered, “I can’t win.”
“Oh, hon. It’s fish. We’ll go buy more,” I told you around a hug. I understood your tears were about much more than fish. “If Littler J makes it to the end of the day, it’s a great day, okay?”
Whatever it is you do with Littler during the day, it’s working. I see it in his arms stretched out for you when I pick him up, and how he strains away from me at bedtime before melting into your shoulder. You’re his dada, you love him, and that love reflects back from him to you.
You don’t need to worry about anything else–not endless learning opportunities, continuously undivided attention or housework conquered.
If Littler makes it to the end of the day, it’s a great day … with a great dada. The rest of what you’re searching for?
It’s coming. Great-hard day by great-hard day, it’s coming.