I had an epiphany over the weekend, and I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, but this past weekend I came to the realization that my husband is better at playing with our kids than I am.
Now there are very few things that I think he does better as a parent, because let's face it, moms rule the world. #truth
But it was early on a Saturday morning and Tony appeared to be just as excited (if not more excited) to be chasing Charlie around the house at full speed, pretending to be a monster/superhero/tv show character that I do not know. And this went on for like a solid 30 minutes.
I was exhausted just watching them.
And then it dawned on me, that I am not the parent who "plays" very well.
Now I am the parent who feels all the feelings. Who kisses boo boos and gives 3 hugs at daycare drop off and pick up. I am the parent who makes sure the crusts are cut off the bread and I am the parent who knows the exact way my son likes his back tickled. I am the parent who loves to read, and color, and make up stories. I am the parent who comes up with creative activities and involves my kids in cooking and putting clean laundry away. I am the parent who schedules play dates and signs up for soccer teams, who makes school lunches, who manages activity paperwork and makes sure new shoes are ordered in time for a growth spurt. I am the one who always knows where the missing glove is, and how critical it is that the batman shirt is clean and ready to wear on Monday. I am the parent who takes everyone to the doctor, the one who gets up in the middle of the night when someone is sick, or needs to be tucked in again.
But when it comes to crawling on the floor under a 2x2 foot tent, or chasing someone around the house for an hour... I leave that to my husband.
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