Well this is my first official post. I wish I could say it was going to be a happy song and dance type of post, but it’s not. I created this blog as means to express my feelings as I have them. Not really as a remembrance of them, but as they are at present.
I’m feeling quite under-appreciated this morning. I’m starting to believe (well not really because I’ve felt this way for quite a while now) that my wife doesn’t appreciate the amount of work I do in the mornings and evenings in regards to taking care of our son. It really got to me this morning when I decided to get up earlier than normal to cook breakfast for both of us. I typically get up at 5:30am to give myself enough time to get myself ready before our son wakes up. He’s 12 months old, and is sleeping until around 7:00am nowadays, which I consider pretty great! He does still wake up earlier on occasion though, which is why I try and be almost completely ready to leave for work by about 6:30am. I got up at 5:15am this morning because I wanted to try my hand at making a delicious eggs Benedict for my wife and I, since we really only ever grab a banana at best, as we run out the door in the mornings.
I was up in plenty of time and started cooking around 6:00am. Around 6:30, our son woke up, and my wife went to go get him. Breakfast was almost complete, but I had to forgo actually assembling mine to change the little guys diaper. His typically morning routine is that he gets up, I change his diaper, I change him into his daycare outfit, and then he plays in his playroom until we are ready to leave. Nothing was out of the ordinary on that front this morning. Notice the use of the word “I” in his routine though.
After I get my wife’s breakfast complete, she comes in the kitchen and takes a bite out of the bacon that I was going to put on my own dish and I tell her that it was mine. She then looks down at the plate I have already made for her and says that she doesn’t want the “sauce” (hollandaise) on hers. I argue that the “sauce” is pretty much what separates “eggs benedict” from an egg muffin (although ours also had bacon and tomato slices). She dipped her finger into the sauce to taste it, and then agreed that it was “ok” to put on hers. She takes her plate with her into the bathroom to finish getting ready.
I hurriedly eat mine so I can go check on little man while he his playing with all his toys. I felt for a first attempt, the breakfast was delicious! As I’m waiting on my wife to finish getting ready to leave for work, she hands me her plate with only one of the two eggs actually eaten and says, “it was good, but I don’t have time for it.” If she didn’t wait until 6:30 to get up every morning, maybe she could get ready, eat some breakfast, and not rush our son and myself out the door late at 7:30.
I probably shouldn’t feel under-appreciated because she did say it was “good” but I couple this with the fact that I know when I get home I’m going to have to cook dinner (she doesn’t cook, but I don’t really mind so much because I love to cook), then give little man his bath, and then give him his nighttime bottle and put him down for the night.
If you have followed all the activities I do with our son, you’ll notice that from time he wakes up, gets changed for school, comes home and eats, gets his bath, and then finally his bottle before bed, that it all involves myself, and not my wife. The excuse that “he just does this better for you” doesn’t sit well with me.
Anyway, for a first post, I think this has been a success. I was able to vent and not have to sleep on the couch!
Being Brett 