I knew that Bobby would be a good daddy, the way I knew he would be a good partner before I married him… some things, you just know. I was looking forward to seeing it all play out though — how would he talk to her, look at her, what he would say when he met her, when she cries, when she smiles. And although I never had a doubt that he would be a great father, it’s wonderful (& sometimes hilarious) to watch…
He talks to her in this super-high falsetto & calls her “Boogie.” I have no idea why, but it makes me laugh. She loves it… when he comes into the room, she starts flapping & kicking & looking for him. He can get a smile out of her before I can every time — I guess since I’m with her all the time, he’s kind of a big deal in Rosebud’s world :)
We’re gradually hammering out our individual roles. During the first few weeks, I was convinced that Rose was completely my job. I think I still feel some guilt about staying home & not contributing financially to our family income… I felt very responsible for Rose because in my mind, it wasn’t fair for Bobby to have to work AND do baby stuff. He never said anything to imply that… I just decided it on my own. He kept saying that he wanted to help & I kept insisting that he didn’t have to. And then — *lightbulb* — I realized that he actually WANTED to help. That I was taking something away from him by being a control-freak gatekeeper. That I was doing both he & Rose a disservice by swooping in & taking her every time she cried or needed something. Being a gatekeeper is something that comes really (too) easily to me, & I think that spending every day with her is making it even more prominent. During the day, I’m figuring things out — so when the evening comes & Bobby gets home, I find it difficult to balance between sharing my knowledge & being a pain-in-the-ass know-it-all. I catch myself swooping verbally & nonverbally… & I need to stop because the more I swoop, the less confident he is in his ability to take care of her. & that sucks for everyone — Bobby, me, & Rose.
So we’ve begun taking turns on the mornings. We do bath time together. Whoever’s not doing the next morning does the last bottle the night before. We’re figuring our roles out. If I hear her crying with him, I try to minimize my “swoopiness.” I’m trying to control my tendency to be controlling… does that still make me a control freak? Probably.