Good morning! Well, the thing you probably don't know about the Dungan clan is the fact that everyone in the family with any "apparent" degree of responsibility is out of town. Yep, since Tuesday, Lynley has been in Anaheim at Educause, a convention for double sided nerds (nerds who love both education and technology - a wicked and dedicated combination) This has left me to navigate the twerplets through the cruel cold world for a few days on my very own. Lynley will not be back until Friday night.
Of course, Lynley has left me a plethora of lists. I find that very interesting. I don't remember leaving her a single list when I leave town. Yet, here I find myself with a cupboard wall filled with reminders and instructions. I look at them and all I can think is "how degrading." How could she possibly think that I would not remember all of this stuff?
I think the next time, I will have to leave her lists on how to do laundry, make breakfasts, dinners every other night, operate the dishwasher, how to remove dishes from the dishwasher (trust me, she needs that), clean the dishes, how to take out the trash, get the kid's dressed in the morning, how to take them to school, how to pick them up, how to back flush the pool, how to empty the debris from the Polaris, and anything else I can think of.
I find it all very interesting. Am I really perceived as being that out of touch that I need instructions on how to feed the dogs?
And another thing, at all of our usual haunts, everyone I talk to seems to know that I am "baching" it. Apparently, they were told to keep an eye on us. There are spies everywhere. Did I comb their hair? Do their socks match? How ragged to we look?
Aargh! Absolutely, disappointingly, incredible!
Are men really eyed as being this incompetent? Are we really so wrapped up into work that we can't care for our families without lists and instructions?
What has the world come to?
Although, I must admit, it is food for thought. And if I was one of these fathers, is that who I'd want to be? Would I want to be that out of touch? That disengaged?
I can't answer that question for anyone else but I, for one, don't. And I take great offense to this clear case of sexual paternal discrimination.
If I had a bra I would unburn it.
Now, I am going to go into the kitchen and make lunches. And hear this, I might even use a cookie cutter to make little hearts out of their sandwiches.
I've got maternal game. Bring it on!
I've got purpose yes I do, I've got purpose how about you?