Time with Daddy

I am always reminding myself these days not to stress so much about the small things - the kitchen floor, the dust bunnies, the laundry, but...I'm not necessarily good at following my own advice. I'm always trying to play and clean at the same time, make a game out of folding laundry, and multi-task in other ways that often leave me in trouble, like a bed unmade at 10:0 at night and smelly, "clean" sheets that have been in the washer since noon when I initially got distracted. When will I ever learn to just relax, to just play, and to just enjoy? Soon, I hope...I consider myself a work in progress.


But, to get to the point: I'm so glad the girls have their daddy. Someone who lets them jump off the stairs onto piles of pillows, who lets Livy "pick-up" herself not caring if things go in the right box or not. Someone who takes them for rides on the lawn mover, plays hide and seek when it's really not that fun since Livy tells you where to hide, and endlessly "roars" while the girls run and hide in their tent or tunnel. Someone who knows how to start the Wii and allows Gracie to "play boxing" even if it doesn't exactly teach her to love her neighbor, and someone who's willing to be to recipient of body slams, stomach jumping, horse-back riding, or any other type of wrestling the girls can come up with.


I know I play too; I'm good at the crayons/paint/playdoh, the music, the park, and the "help Mommy" activities, but I'm not Brian. I'm structured, he's not. I worry about messes, he doesn't. The girls love their mommy, I know, but the giggles and shrieks of happiness I hear coming from the basement as I clean up the kitchen, make me know they treasure their time with daddy to no end.