My hubs and I, we are not perfect. But we sure do try.

Friday night was one of those fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants kind of nights. A sick (teething) baby, errands to run after work, a birthday party to get ready for the next day, etc.

Attempting all of the above with the sick baby quickly deteriorated into a CRABBY baby situation, so we decided to divide and conquer.

Hubby dropped me and the poor lil one off at home, then headed back into town to finish the grocery shopping. I went in to try to soothe Hankers with some fruit and baby advil, but when I grabbed the box with the new bottle, I panicked.

On my way home from work that afternoon, I was in a hurry, and I had accidentally grabbed children’s advil, not infant!!! I immediately called up daddio, the math genius of the family, to try to figure out how to convert?/titrate? the big-kid medicine into little-one dosage.

Let me just say this: trying to compare Mgs per mLs, on two different ratios, over the phone with a husband who is driving, while both trying to use the phones we are talking on as calculators, is as hard as it sounds. And of course, the small print for dosage for 24 months and under simply said “call your doctor.” Which reinforced my fear that I might get this important calculation wrong. So I gave up. I told him to just go ahead and pick me up a few bottles of the RIGHT MEDICINE!

Which, he did, after turning back around once he realized (halfway to the store) that his wallet was still in his pickup, at home. Grrr.  (I hate when I do that, too.)

We. Are. Awesome.

Pretty much NAILING IT!!

Parenthood can be hard. But–when you get to do it everyday with your best friend, with adorable little cherubs running around creating mayhem all around you, that you love so much your heart almost bursts open just looking at them–the hard parts really don’t even matter.

Even when you want to scream, or pull your hair out. (Or when the little darling does scream, and pull your hair out, for you.)

Even when the same little darling dumps a whole bowl of rice crispies all over your lap, on the couch. (Yeah there was that, too.)

Luckily, there was a silver lining. By the time daddy finally got back with the groceries, there was a hot breakfast-for-dinner coming right off the stove, which hasn’t happened in a loooooong time (me actually cooking him a hot meal, that is).

We divided, and we conquered. And then we had a lovely dinner together for about ten minutes until the baby decided it was playtime again. Yet again, we divided and conquered–daddy entertained jr. bacon cheeseburger while I cleaned up the kitchen, and then it was bedtime. Glorious bedtime. For the baby, and then immediately thereafter, for his tired mama.

Do you know what goes surprisingly well with breakfast-for-dinner?

Seven deadly zins.

Truth 🙂

Try it sometime. Especially on one of those kind of days!

6 thoughts on “Killing It as Parents

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