Sometimes I say funny things. Mostly they're unintentional, but occasionally (and especially when they are purposely well-thought out) I stumble upon something witty enough that a friend will comment, "You should have a blog or something!" Once in a very great while someone will kindly comment that I should write a book, but I'm thinking a blog will be less time consuming, and I am nothing if not lazy.
So here we are. Sadly my occasional wit does not extend to clever blog titles that are somehow a play on my name (Becca), my profession (mom and sometime SAT tutor), or my hair color (red, or as my kindergarten boyfriend might say, orange), which is the explanation behind "Requisite Cute Blog Name". My apologies to those searching for greater meaning.
I don't routinely do anything especially exciting, and I'm not big on the whole, "what does it all mean??" way of thinking, so this blog could either be a fun way to kill 5 minutes every so often, or a total waste of your time. I leave it to you to decide. I spend a lot of time playing Words With Friends and obsessively checking Facebook, so I may not be the best judge of deeper meaning, but hell, I've read mom blogs about the many choices available for turning your placenta into an edible treat. I can at least produce something marginally less gross once in a while.
Where do I start? Well, I recently had the stomach flu. (Wait, what was I saying about being less gross?) Having the stomach flu is never a fantastical way to spend a couple days, but add total responsibility for the life and well-being of a small child into the mix, and suddenly you're faced with decisions like, "do I bring a trash can into the family room in case the smell of washable markers suddenly triggers the upchuck reflex?" and "how much Mickey's Clubhouse will cause permanent brain cell loss to my child? Like 5 hours in a row?" Because when it's defcon 3 in your intestinal tract, enrichment activities inevitably include little more that popping in a Veggie Tales DVD so you can pretend you sent your kid to church for 22 minutes. It's times like these that my respect for the single parent multiplies exponentially. I am not a single parent. I have a partner who is such an amazing Dad that he thinks it's a treat to take a personal day to spend caring for his daughter so her mom can become better acquainted with the inside of the toilet bowl. And I have a partner who will regularly pop his head into the bathroom to check on me, and when I finally emerge, sweaty and 5 lbs lighter, will load our daughter into the car and get me wonton soup, the single greatest cure for what ails you.
The single parent goes it alone. I have several single parent friends, and after my recent day of near-death, I want to lend them my partner next time they wake up with the flu. Or at the very least take their kids off their hands so they can watch Jersey Shore in bed without worrying about their daughters dubbing themselves Guidettes and their sons begging for self-tanner. But those who really make me want to cry are the married single parents. Those parents who have a partner but still go it alone the majority of the time. The first people you might think of are military spouses, stuck holding down the fort while their loved ones are thousands of miles away fighting a war that seems like it's never going to end. And yes, those parents are heroes, fighting the good fight so their partners come home to an intact family. But what about the parents whose partners just aren't that involved? I doubt anyone married with kids went into childbirth thinking that their partner was going to be so hands off that they would never get a break. I get regular nights out with friends because my husband thinks Daddy-daughter time is the best part of his week. But I know women who have to practically bribe their husbands to watch the kids so they can go to the dentist. That hurts my heart. These women are amazing moms, and do their best to make up for the lack of fatherly involvement, but why do they have to? Why are there men out there who think that the bulk of their parenting responsibilities ended when the stick turned blue? I know I'm speaking from the vaunted perch of a woman married to a man who turned out to be a wonderful father. And if you go back a generation, I had a very involved Dad too (still do, sometimes a little TOO involved). I hope that doesn't make me sound condescending. All I'm saying is that I know some kickass moms who could use a little more help from their other halves. So get on it guys! Even if you think you've been doing it right, ask your wife if she could use a night off. Chances are, the answer will be a resounding "YES"! And you might get thank you sex. ;)
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