Behind the scenes.....a dad's perspective

Last night, I was at the hospital with Callum and I came home to Kevin telling me he had written out his "own" blog post. I've mentioned in the past how it's kind of fun (at times) to watch Kevin squeal a bit when it comes to spending time with the kids. Well, I think Kevin is certainly squealing...just a bit! 


I'll update on Callum a bit later in the day. So far, so good though! 

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I know there are many people who have been checking Steph’s blog frequently to see how baby Callum is doing.  Believe it or not, even her own husband learns things about his baby through the blog.  You see – behind every great car is a great design, behind every great work of is a great artist, and well, behind Callum’s recovery and Steph’s detailed updates on his progress, is a great…well… more like battered, beaten, and nearly defeated husband trying to keep together a home that Steph assures me is ops normal.  

So in the midst of baby Callum’s illness, I thought I’d hijack the blog for a few moments and try to put a lighter spin on some of the logistics of managing three little girls so Momma can be with her baby boy.  You see, I believe a baby needs his Momma in a way that a Daddy cannot provide, so I’m happy to visit as often as I can but I do believe my true role in this difficult chapter of our lives is to support Steph the best I can so she can focus all of her attention where it is truly needed, at Callum’s side.  

Before I take all the credit for conducting this orchestra of life, I must say that our friends and family have been tremendously supportive.  There is not a time that I have wanted to visit the hospital that I have not been able to and we really have more help than we can accept.  That has been a blessing to know how much love surrounds us.  

Back to that great…. well… more like battered, beaten, and nearly defeated husband.  I’m not saying I need the help and cannot handle the kids.  I’m not sending a message to Steph that she needs to spend more time at home.  What I’m saying is that every husband needs to walk, no run, to his wife and apologize.  Apologize for all those thoughts you think when you get home from work.  You know what I’m talking about, “why is the house a mess?  You forgot to run my errand?  How could you not have time for that?”  I can honestly say I have no idea how Steph does it, and manages to stay put together and have the kids look sharp at the same time.  I’m just happy to leave the house with three kids!  

Here’s an example of me getting the kids out of the house today:

Steph was at the hospital without a car so she asked if I could take the kids to pick her up about 5:30PM.  No problem I thought.  It was 4:30 at the time, plenty of time to get ready.  We finished our art project, cleaned up, and were ready to go.  I told the girls to go the bathroom.  The oldest two complied.  I went to put Clara on the potty to find out she had peed her pants, without a diaper on.  You see, before baby Callum arrived, Clara was potty trained.  She spends all her time at the house while not sleeping without a diaper, and even does short trips to the store without a diaper.  She hadn’t pooped in a diaper in weeks, and rarely has pee accidents.  Over the two days she has pooped two diapers, pooped in her booster seat and finger painted with it, and peed around the house more than a dog marking his territory.  

Anyways, back to the story…I head upstairs to get Clara some new leggings so we can head to the hospital.  I come downstairs and see Mairead dart out the front door yelling, “Clara, COME BACK!”  I sprint through the house and out the door to see Clara turning the corner onto our street at an eighteen-month-old trot, 3-year-old Lilah egging her on, and Mairead, trying to play mother hen and corral them as she runs down the driveway after them.  I sprinted down our 100 feet-long driveway (almost pulling a hammy) after them, turned the corner, and was greeted by our neighbor, who has two young children of their own.  She asked how it was going?  How could I lie, I had been caught red handed:

“It’s going great, just thought I’d let an eighteen month old and three year old go for a walk down to the water.”  

I confessed.  She offered to help.  I turned and took my humble self back to the house, put the kids in the car, and made it to the hospital.  

So Steph is at the hospital tonight, the girls are in bed (a story for another blog), and I’m sitting here, drinking some wine, realizing why steph asks me rub her feet this time every night.  No, it’s not easy.  But I know it’s the best way I can help.  The kids need me now, and while they won’t have pretty bows in their hair, be on time, or have matching cute outfits on, Steph can rest easy because they will be safe and loved.  

I wish I could have included some funny photos in this but do you think I have time for that!