Here's what I'm thinking. My husband has NO clue what it is like to live in the brain of a Mom. The things that keep me up at night, he blissfully sleeps through. I take care of the "management" of this family. I remember the kids' likes and dislikes (no, Brooklynn does not like mayo on her sandwich, how do you not know that yet?), I remember their schedules, I pay our bills and do our banking, I notice when we are on the last roll of toilet paper, I see grubby handprints all over the windows and light switches, I know that my kids are due for their eye exams and that their dentist appointments are next week, I remember how overdue we are for an oil change and I notice when we're almost driving on fumes, I know when the kids are on their last pair of socks and we'd better tackle the pile in the laundry room, I send out Christmas cards and wrap all the gifts, I plan the meals beyond his repertoire - frozen pizza, Subway, sandwiches, and mac and cheese... I know things behind the scenes that my husband doesn't seem to. Or is quite happy to remain oblivious to because they magically get taken care of. I have this constantly whirring Mom computer racing through my head that keeps track of this crap so that my husband doesn't have to. But suddenly, I feel like I need to let him into my brain. Because I honestly don't have room in my there right now for all the things that used to fit. I'm slipping in the Momanager department and need to help him step up and shine.
I quizzed him this morning. I need to start downloading my constantly whirring to-do list brain into his, so I thought I'd run a few basic knowledge questions by him.
What time does Sparks start?
- 5:30 - Well, wrong, it starts at 6, but at least if you go then you'll be early for the meetings.
What time does the kids' bell ring after school?"
- 3:05 - wrong, 2:53, but that was pretty close. I'll give you that one. Unless you have to pick them up. Then show up at 2:53 so they're not the last kids on the playground.
How do you register the girls for Girl Guides every September?
- Umm...phone Phoebe. She'll tell me how. LOL Okay, I'll give him that one, that would work.
How much did it cost to sign Connor up for Scouts this year?
- Too much. Okay, I'll give him that one, too!
What's the password for our email? Or hydro bill. Or Telus bill... or etc, because darnit, each password has to be slightly different.
- I don't know. I just pull up the email and it's saved on there. Maybe you should write that one down for me.
Who's our mortgage broker?
- The lady on the billboard. (Okay half points for that one)
And how do you get a hold of her?
- Drive to the billboard and copy down her number. (Alright, fine... I'll give him that, too)
Etc. etc.
He argued after the quiz, "See, we'd survive..."
Okay, I'll give him that,too. Yes, they'll survive. But I want them to thrive. And what I am learning that by micromanaging our marriage and family life for the past twenty years, is that I have actually done my husband a disservice. He has no clue what he is in for if I'm not around for the next 13 years to parent all of my kids through to adulthood. So, while I fully intend to fight this crap diagnosis until my body falls apart, there is a bit of a shift that needs to happen around here as a "just in case," because being a single dad to four kids is going to be the biggest slap in the face my husband has ever received.
So... I think I'm going to write him a manual. Of all things that I want him to know about running a household without me. Starting with easy stuff like, "where do I keep our will?" and "What's our online banking password," and "where would you find the kids' Care Cards and SIN numbers?" and "Where is the hot water shut off valve," and all of those things about this house that I selfishly have kept to myself. But not until January, because it's Christmas and that's another busy Mom time that I can't seem to delegate. (Picture my husband trying to be helpful with the duct-tape and Christmas bags - I am not joking, he goes through a lot of duct tape at Christmas trying to wrap gifts - and me rolling my eyes and saying, "Here, let me wrap that, you aren't doing it right..." instead of hand over hand showing him how the rest of the world wraps a gift)
It's not a novel, but it is a project. And it could be really enlightening and fun to do. I can picture it now, a giant binder with lovely colour coded dividers emblazoned with a clever title page like "How to be a Dad with a Mom Brain", or something like that. And 12 years from now, when I've beaten the odds and we stand there seeing our youngest off to University together, at least I'll know that I stopped assuming I have to keep track of everything and that it's okay to let some things go.
Now... where do I keep the binders?
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