Two evenings a week I go to work. I work as a Cardiac/ICU nurse at the local hospital, and we have been very blessed by the flexibility and income my very part time work provides our family. I really enjoy my job, and once I have gotten past the little twang in my heart that comes from kissing Pursy and Grant good-bye, I love doing something that is just mine. And even though being a wife and mother has opened up my heart to more compassion and empathy with my patients, my primary goal at work is that I know what I am doing and do it well. So for 8 hours I disappear into another role that suits me just as well as the one I carry out the other 5 days a week. And I don't forget about them, but Grant and Purslane are not my primary focus and it is good for all of us. They are the sweetest little unit and have things that just the two of them do together when I am away.
The morning after an evening of work, Grant tries to take care of Pursy for at least an hour so I can sleep a little bit more- babe wakes up at 7:30 whether I went to bed at 9 or midnight. Once I am up, he runs out the door to work, and I head for the coffee. This morning, after Pursy and I had breakfast and the fog was starting to clear from my brain, I looked around the house. It was a total disaster. Toys everywhere, her highchair was a sticky, crumby mess, and it looked like three sets of pajamas had been tried on before she went to sleep in her green striped ones. And my irritation level started to rise. This man is working on a PhD and can't figure out where all the puzzle pieces go?!? There is ONE bucket in the living room that I organize EVERY week to make sure ALL the toys we keep in the living room will fit into. How hard is that?? So I am slamming around feeling very self righteous about my ability to take care of a babe AND keep things decent around the house- when I look over at Pursy who is sitting on the couch "reading" her favorite ABC book. She is on the "B" page and repeating over and over "nana, nana" pointing at the picture of the bananas.
And I realize that last night when she was home with her Dada, she put 2 and 2 together and that little smarty has now figured out what a banana is. My heart instantly broke into a million pieces when I put into perspective the fact that instead of sitting in front of the TV while Pursy played on her own, Grant was sitting with her reading books and teaching her new things. He didn't waste time cleaning up her high chair because if I know my daughter, as soon as she was done with her sweet potatoes and chicken, she was ready to get down and run around. And she likes company. So he ran around with her. And bed time is not when she shows her sweetest side, so the pajama pile was made while he was wrestling the octopus on steroids she becomes when she doesn't want clothes on.
I cleaned up the rest of the house falling completely more in love with my husband. He loves that little girl and puts his priorities exactly where I would want them- on her. And so I can spend 8 hours away from her without a worry in my head that she is not being taken care of. She is a lucky girl to have a Dada like him.