daddy day care

Currently, Husband has a new title. For the next month and a half, he will otherwise be known as Mr. Mom (I also like House Husband, but I'm not sure he'll be so crazy about that one). We were fortunate that he could arrange his schedule around my return to work, making the transition for me a bit easier. While it is tough leaving Baby S each morning, I am comforted knowing that Mr. Mom is taking care of things at home. It's quite possible that this will be the most undivided quality time he ever has with her, which is sort of wonderful and depressing at the same time. We'll concentrate on the wonderful...

We talk multiple times a day but Mr. Mom usually has it under control. He did wonder during the first couple of days on duty why Fun Baby had been replaced by Miss Crabby Pants. I explained it was most likely just a stage, or more likely Baby S was just hungry, tired, wet or needed to burp (I've learned thus far that babies are only so complicated). By process of elimination, Mr. Mom usually figures it out on his own with no problem.

While he hasn't ventured out much, Husband did take Baby S out for her first NYC bagel. He ate, she watched. On what would have been Elvis Presley's 75th birthday last week, they listened to a greatest hits album (this would no doubt alarm my grandmother if she were still with us, as she blamed Elvis' popularity on the downfall of America... but that's another story altogether). Not to exclude any one musical genre, Baby S has also taken in a healthy dose of John Coltrane and, for the most part, the classical music featured on [the strange yet mesmerizing] Baby Einstein. In a nutshell, the Daddy Day Care Experiment is thus far a success. Added bonus: it's given us an all new appreciation for each other. I realize while there are more than a few Mr. Moms out there, mine is pretty special. Baby S and I are two lucky gals.