Learning to be a Family

Dave and I used to travel quite a bit. For a few years, we were on a trip every few months. Over the years, we've been lucky enough to frequently travel for a few weeks at a time. Each time, we've enjoyed it the entire time. We never tired of traveling, and we never tired of each other's company. In fact, the time together always strengthened our relationship.

Likewise, when our girls were born. Both times, Dave was able to take 3 weeks at home with me after their birth. He helped out, and got to know his new daughter, and we were able to go through this profound experience together. Although I know they were difficult, I remember both times with nostalgia.

We expected the same these past few weeks. Including China's national holiday, Dave had about 3 weeks off to settle in. After leaving Chicago on September 18th, Dave just started work full-time today.

But these past few weeks were anything but blissful. We were at each other's throats. And sadly, we never confronted each other about it in a meaningful way until last night.

It appears that we are still figuring out how to be a family.

After a long and difficult adjustment period, I've taken full ownership of being a stay-at-home mom. I enjoy spending all of my time with my girls. I know what they need when they cry. I know what will not work when they act out. I know when we've pushed them too far, but I also know when we're an hour or so from the breaking point.

Dave is good at his job and enjoys working, but has always harbored a desire to be the stay-at-home parent. He is a very loving father, and longs to be the one that his children run to when they are hurt.

Quite often, we clashed.

I would want to do something one way. Dave felt I was telling him what to do - and I usually was. Dave ignored my ideas, and did it his own way. Sometimes this blew up in his face, making both of us feel resentful. Somehow, I-told-you-so feels bad on both sides. Sometimes his way worked, and I felt useless. We talked this out for a few hours last night.

Dave and L-- were jumping on the bed this evening, after he got home from work. They were roughhousing, and they filled the apartment with their laughs. When the crying started, I ran to the room. L-- had fallen off of the bed. She reached for me.

I hate to rely on stereotypes, but they do often seem to be grounded in reality. Daddy's are the ones who push you further than you thought you could go and who throw some excitement and something mildly forbidden into your day. In Mommy's arms, you'll always be safe. We have both rebelled against these roles. But after so long at home with my girls, I've come to embrace mine. This evening, I think Dave started to embrace being the Daddy. He gets to spend his few hours with the girls laughing and jumping and playing, breaking the rules a bit and having some hair-raising fun.

And it may be God's gift to our children that L-- has someone safe to hold her, when her Daddy throws her a little too high. Because once she feels thoroughly comforted, she can jump right back into the fray of things again.