Jim went out of town Saturday morning and won't be back until Wednesday (note to any stalkers out there - I have a Mag Lite I'm not afraid to bean you over the head with if you try to break in. It's next to my bed. Right by the shotgun.) The title of my post is tongue-in-cheek, of course, because my little week alone can't begin to compare with a being a true single mom.
When Jim's out of town, it reminds me how much he helps out. How am I going to reach the top shelf? Who's going to open jars and soda cans for me? In all seriousness, I wouldn't be able to do this whole working mom thing without him. He gives her bath, packs her diaper bag, and gets her dressed in the morning (note: I do have to lay out clothes for her so that she doesn't end up going to school in pajama bottoms, pink shoes and an orange top).
Part of me thinks, "well, he's supposed to help, so what's the big deal?" If I go by what I hear on my parenting board and girlfriends, however, most husbands aren't nearly as involved. One of my coworkers (male) proudly announced to me that he had changed his third diaper this past weekend. His daughter is 6 weeks old! Can you imagine?
Anyhoo, Weez and I are pretty lucky girls.
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