Like so many young moms, I am a bit of a control freak. Things have to be done a certain way, especially when it comes to my daughter. I am quick to correct my husband or shout out criticism from a room away if I hear things going poorly.
Recently I injured my back, and when I say injured, I couldn’t walk, sit or stand for 30 days prior to a surgery. I was very quickly thrust to the sidelines, a position I was not accustomed to, and one I did not like.
How on earth was my husband going to do everything? A small event like dinner for my daughter made me anxious. How is my husband going to do dinner each night? He doesn’t know you start with something she likes, work in the healthy stuff and then finish with fruit. He will let her drink too much milk and ruin her supper. He doesn’t know about how extra forks and spoons distract her and keep her eating. He won’t have the patience to sing and dance to get through meal time with a toddler.
Maybe those things were true. Maybe my daughter ate meat loaf and fish sticks and chicken nuggets for three weeks straight, but she survived. Someone else can do it. It wasn’t my way, it was his way, and that was OK. I learned that if you step out of the way, don’t judge and actually let Daddy find his own routine and rhythm, that life continues to move forward. The earth is still spinning and the sun still rises and sets over a household not run by my rules.
I think in some ways this experience was a blessing. My husband is so much more confident in his abilities. I don’t get asked 20 questions each day because he fears that I won’t like what he fed her or dressed her in for school. He knows his way works and I am not sweating the small stuff anymore. I’m perfectly happy letting Daddy do it!