Part of the reason why I started blogging was because of the sense of community (camraderie, if you will) between people far-flung across the globe. People whose real life connection began with a keyboard and a few clicks and a sense of “Finally, I-am-not-alone-in-my-experiences!”

My husband began blogging as a hobby. It was really just a way of detailing his adventures as a SAHD. However, it has developed into a much deeper addiction, and has given him a real sense of purpose, and has broken up the monotony of being a SAHD. Jeremy has created genuine friendships and established a huge network of friends and fans. That being said, he probably talks to everyone in the blogosphere more than he talks to me. (I really can’t blame him. Quite frankly, with a two year old and a seven week old baby, I am not really much of a conversationalist at 3 AM. But you, however, are! )

One of the the things I have found out from blogging is that most couples don’t agree on everything when it comes to deciding HOW TO BEST RAISE THEIR KIDS. As parents, one of the things that Jeremy and I differ on is our ability to create and stick to a schedule.

At work, I am regimented yet flexible (talk about an oxymoron!). You see, I work retail. As a district manager, I supervise fourteen stores across four states. And the one thing everyone in retail learns quickly (if you want to excel) is that you have to be good at multitasking and rolling with the punches.

There is no such thing as a typical day. At any moment, I am poised to receive information that tells me of an impeding explosion that will annihilate months or even years of work. (I know you’re thinking “It’s retail, how freaking hard can it be? What is she talking about - losing years of work? It’s not like the hard drive crashed and that major PowerPoint presentation cannot be retrieved! What does she know?”)

In essence, my day job is supposed to be solely about fostering the development of others. (Come to think of it, that’s my nighttime job too.) In reality, my true role is that of a salaried firefighter. I am like 911 for my stores. I can hear the rising panic in my manager’s voices when they have to call me with bad news or to report the latest crisis. I can read their thoughts. I know they’re thinking, “Oh, shit. I hope she answers. Is she going to answer? Am I going to get voice mail? Will she just pick up the phone already? I just want to get this conversation over with! I just want her to fix this freaking mess for me so I can get on with my day!”

Basically, I am used to spending every day dealing with things I cannot control. I can sense many of you right now shaking your heads in agreement, quietly muttering “Amen, sista!”

At work, I can’t control how many customers come through our doors. I can’t control whether my star manager quits because she was lured away with the prospect of shorter hours and more money with better benefits. (Which we all know is total crap, but they sometimes leave me anyway. Go figure.) I can’t control whether the AC breaks in three stores during a 100 degree heat wave. (Hey, I am not a repairman. I can only expedite getting it fixed.) It’s like being a one woman help desk. A help desk doesn’t stop your computer from breaking, they just wait til it does and then try to fix it. Usually while implying that whatever went wrong is your fault. Truth be told, my job is the professional equivalent of praying for no rain on your wedding day. I can’t prevent shit from happening (I am not God. I know, shocking, right?) My job is to influence, not do. I am there to troubleshoot and make the best of a less than ideal situation.

It’s just like being a parent. Only they pay me.

When you have kids, you can delude yourself into thinking you are in charge. Except, someone forgot to send your kids that memo.

Jeremy refuses to accept defeat. He clings to the notion that he is in charge. And that the kids should cooperate accordingly. Only again, someone forgot to tell the kids that.

As an ex-Coastie, Jeremy is passionate about having a routine and sticking to it. The Academy reinforced his notions of discipline and precision. (Fifteen years later, Jeremy still rolls his wifebeaters and socks before placing them in his drawer. And is meticulous in his obsession with cleanliness. But I digress…)

Jeremy claims that the structure is good for Ty. I agree with him. Sort of.  I just can’t be as disciplined in enforcing it as he can. He believes that Ty should go down for a nap at the same time every day.  However, Ty doesn’t always get UP at the same time. Some days it is 5 AM, some days 8 AM. Which means he doesn’t always WANT a nap at the same time every day. But, he is gonna get one, if the clock says it’s time. Or, more likely, if Jeremy decides it’s time for Ty to go nappy-nap so daddy can get some work done.

Don’t get me wrong, Jeremy is a rock star daddy. He does more in terms of being in charge of raising the kids than any other father I know.

Salmon SwimmingIt’s just, well, I am a little more flexible in letting the kids tell me what they want, and when they want it (rather than dictating what I want them to do. And when I want them to do it.) I am used to fighting losing battles. And quite honestly, when I get home, I just don’t have the desire or energy to fight the uphill battle of implying that I am always in charge. When clearly the kids know I am not. I have come to accept my role as an influencer (call me an enabler if you want. I don’t mind. Really.)  Just don’t call me a salmon. At work, I may be forced to swim upstream. At home, I am more content with thinking my role is to float along on a lazy river, just enjoying the ride. It’s quite tiring to always fight the current (don’t you agree?)

Take bathtime, for instance. My kids are diabolical opposites in that regard. Princess Caitlin treats the bath like her own personal spa. And we are here just to render professional services.

On the other hand, Ty sometimes loves getting in the bath, but then refuses to get out. Some days he screams bloody murder just trying to get him undressed. (Hello, child services? Yes, I’d like to report someone being killed at Mr. Discovering Dad and Mrs. Mama Nuggle’s house. … Um, well, no, I did not really SEE anyone being hurt. Ah… no… No, I did not see anyone brandishing a weapon. No… no… all I heard was a series of terrible screams. What? Oh, um, the time? It’s 9 PM… Oh, I see. That’s bathtime there? Um, well, ok. Thanks. *Click.*) Knowing this, we have resorted to bringing Ty into the shower with one of us. Even then it doesn’t always go as planned. On some days he RUNS like an Olympic sprinter trying to break a world record. And yes I mean a Carl Lewis vs. Ben Johnson style race to escape the bathroom, usually in various states of undress. And trust me, cathing a glimpse of myself in the mirror while running naked after a two year old (just 6 weeks after giving birth to Caitlin) is NOT A PRETTY SIGHT. It has gotten so bad that some days I just *gasp* don’t even bathe him. Even worse, some days I forget to brush Ty’s teeth. Shhh…. don’t tell Jeremy I am screwing up the routine. Just report me already.

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