You know I really love being a dad. If Jenn’s business trip has taught me anything, it’s that I am completely in love with my station in life. I’m a father, a husband, a good employee and a helluva guy if I do say so m’self.

One of the blessings of Jenn being gone is that I get to prove to myself that I’m the capable, calm, cool, collected Dad I imagine in my head. My biggest fears about this week center around duties that Jenn and I divvy up which would now fall totally on me. Not necessarily bathtime or getting ready for school, but little things that you tend to gloss over when there are two of you around.

Number one on my list was “entertainer” in the car. Since Jenn, Rae & I share a commute every morning and evening I realized that any meltdowns that occurred on my watch would be hard to handle. My arms don’t bend backwards like Mr. Fantastic’s so I’m not able to grab dropped snacks, blankets or stuffed animals. Sure enough the past two afternoons have had brief, yet focused fits of anger in the car that liberal application of music (U2) and soothing reminders about “using your words” have been able to soothe. Score one for Mr. Mom.

Second, I just knew that bedtime would be a bit painful. Our recent routine is to let Raelyn “snuggle” in our bed post-bath, which, even with Jenn around can be a struggle. When there are two of you to wrangle an unruly toddler who wants to sleep in your bed it’s one thing, but tonight I needed back-up when Rae refused to leave the bed without a fight. I finally relented into holding her on the couch and singing to her until she was sleepy enough to ask me if she could go in her own bed. Two points!

Rae is sleeping like an angel now and she’s been 99% perfect these past two days, but even her momentary lapses are OK. They’re letting me know that I can take care of her on my own, and they give me the opportunity to care for her in a very special way that I would not otherwise experience were Jenn at home. So thank you, Jenn, for going out of town (come home soon) and thank you, Rae, for letting me be your Dad.

Good night.
Sleep tight.
Don’t let the bedbugs bite.
Have sweet dreams.
We love you and we’ll see you in the morning.