Shoved to Them
My eldest daughter was a competition level Irish Dancer. Once a month, we would pack our suitcases, make sure we had her solo dress, check that her wig was in her bag, and set off (usually with her best friend and her mom) across the country for competitions. I loved it. It was my chance to have some grown-up time with my friend, and also to bond with my daughter. We were incredibly close in those years. Our relationship was one of inside jokes and shared memories.
She would get up on stage, and I would sit the audience watching her feet flash and her long legs kick out. There was no other place I wanted to be. There are days I still wish that I could go back to watching my 10 year old dance. We reworked our family’s schedules and finances to make it all possible for her, and I don’t regret a moment of it.
What I do regret was that it was never her dad.
While she and I were riding the train in St Louis or exploring Atlanta, my husband was working from home and chasing after her brothers and sister. We had amazing adventures and a shared history of which he was never a part, and he paid the bills for it. It wasn’t very often that he got to actually see what it was that he was writing all those tuition and costuming checks for. While she was a dynamo on the stage, a request for her to dance at home was met with an awkward silence and an embarrassed blush. And so he saw her perform only at the annual show and the one competition that was in town. I’m sad to say that it never occurred to me that he might get to be the one to take her off for a weekend adventure.
Who got to be the Parent in Charge was never really an issue with our boys. They both chose sports which kept them in the area and my husband cheered his way through karate belt ceremonies and soccer games. But even then, any time they did something out of the ordinary and fun, it was me who was with them and their dad who cheered us on from the sidelines and took the pictures.
I know that he loves us, and is happy when we’re happy, but it sometimes feels like he’s missing out on all of the good stuff.
And that’s why I’ve started insisting that he take his turn as the Parent in Charge. While our boys don’t travel, Ella goes more places than her sister aver dreamed of seeing. Between her wheelchair basketball games which are never in town because hers is the only local team and her WCMX skating, she’s a girl who’s constantly on the go.
This past weekend, I sent him with her to San Marcos, TX. I desperately wanted to take her since my childhood friends live a stones throw from there, but as I started figuring out our logistics, I realized that it needed to be him. I want him to have the same close relationship with her that I do, and that means that he needs to have a chance to do something besides simply going to work to fund our misadventures or staying home to take care of everyone else.
And so with a tinge of “I wish it was me,” I sent them off this past Saturday. Within hours I knew I’d done the right thing as my phone blew up with his texts of baskets made and pictures of them together.
It was then that I promised myself to give him more of this – more time in the center of their lives and less at the periphery. While someone needs to be the person in charge, there’s no rule that says that person has to be me. We both work really hard, and while my work is mostly at home, there’s no reason that he can’t be the parent to go. Moms aren’t the only parents who need a break sometimes, and to see the pay-off for all the hard work and practices. He didn’t get to see it with our eldest, but I can make sure that he has a front row seat and gets to dance at the head of the parade for everyone else.
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