Chop Liver

It’s an age old story – Dad commutes to California during the week, Dad is the children’s hero upon return. And you know what?! I’m getting pretty sick of it!

I am their slave during the week. Literally slave. Definition of slave is a person who is the legal property of another and is forced to obey them or to work excessively hard. I work excessively hard for these scoundrels and G-d forbid I don’t obey them. Certainly things should be the other way around, but they are sooooo not. I don’t get paid a dime for the blood, sweat and tears I put into this job. Dad comes home and Mom is totally pushed to the sidelines like I am of no value to them. Who’s gonna be the one slaving away for them the minute Dad’s plane takes off, yours truly.

When we had Drew, things were about 50/50. We could play the whole, “I just changed the last diaper, your turn” card. Then Gabby came around and I definitely took care of her more, but Adam also put in his hours. With Noah, I’m the only game in town. I’m the only one who has ever had a sleepless night with him. I’m the only one who has ever cleaned a poop blowout (Adam, don’t you dare try to call that Saturday afternoon poop anything but a poop :). It’s been a one man show over here.

Guess what Noah’s first word was? Guess who Noah pulls for when I’m holding him? That’s right – Dada. Gabby wakes up every morning rushing in to see Dada, regardless of if he’s here or not. And Drew cries at how much he misses his favorite person in the whole wide world (yes, it’s me wiping those tears).

Of course most of this is written in jest, I want them to love their father. But it would be nice if they could appreciate something, anything, that I do for them. “Thanks for all the great nourishment you provide us, Mom.” “Mommy, I really appreciate you shlepping me all over the G-d given earth for all my activities.” And perhaps even throw in a “Mama” every now and again. Is that really too much to ask?