If I die tomorrow
I knew that the process of making a will and getting life insurance would be depressing-- in terms of thinking about your own death (and the death of your spouse); but when you add young children to the mix, you've got a lot bigger fish to fry than your silly little fears about your own demise... cuz guess what: now daddy's taking over.
If you are even the slightest bit of a control freak like me, there are a lot of very real, very scary scenarios a mom has to think about when it comes to her husband picking up this whole child rearing gig on his own.
If I die tomorrow, here are a few situations that I don't see panning out very well for either Matt or the kids:
Scenario #1: Brendan gets diarrhea in a public place that doesn't have a changing table in the bathroom. God help us all. It took me quite a few tries to conquer the standing poopy diaper change in a bathroom stall, and I still consider it quite the feat on the rare occasions that I have to do it. Changing table or not, Matt is so freaked out by poop diapers that he just starts yanking those wipes like a magician pulling ribbons out of his hat. He easily goes through 20 or so on a standard diaper change; which kind of ends up looking like Brendan had some kind of botched chemical peel treatment on his sweet little tush. All I can say to help you both in this situation is "deep breaths" (and try to take those breaths as far away from the actual diaper as possible).
Scenario #2: Matt has to buy a new car. If he has to take those car seats out, they ain't going back in. At least not correctly. There are some things that dads just don't seem to have patience for, and installing the car seats is one of them. Who is going to tell him that the strap up by the head goes over the seat and hooks behind it? Who is going to help him find the anchors and check that the car seat isn't installed too loosely? Can I possibly become a guardian angel and throw a force field blanket over the entire car?
Scenario #3: Matt lets Niall pick the cereal... forever. You know how there are certain father-son bonds that a mom just can't seem to get in on? Like... football, rough-housing, playing swords with their pee streams, etc. Well, for Matt and Niall, this would be going to the grocery store and picking out the most sugary, chemical filled, hydrogenated-fat-loaded cereal and then laughing about what a stick in the mud mom will be when she finds out. Now picture that happening every day (minus the laughing at mom, since that would seem a little inappropriate). When your kid already refuses to eat anything remotely healthy, adding Cocoa Puffs to his daily regimen probably isn't a good idea.
Scenario #4: Matt leaves the house without a snack. Classic rookie mistake. Good luck to you, my friend. I've been punched in the face by Brendan for far lesser infractions than getting into the car and realizing that I forgot the granola "AAH BAR!!! AAH BAR!!!!" The only reason I really worry about this one is that you might feel the urge, when you get punched in the face by Brendan (which you will), to punch him back. Please don't. Thanks :)
The more I thought about this kind of stuff, I realized that I really need to contemplate all of these little daily challenges and write my own private, informal will for Matt:
A Mother's Testament for her Toddlers' Survival (I haven't copyrighted this yet, so don't try to move in on my million dollar idea!)
Matt will never read it, but it will make me feel better to know that if he is really desperate and actually does check one time, I might be able to give him a little divine intervention.
But really, God, can you please wait until they're at least in middle school? That way, they might at least be potty trained. Key word: might.
If you are even the slightest bit of a control freak like me, there are a lot of very real, very scary scenarios a mom has to think about when it comes to her husband picking up this whole child rearing gig on his own.
If I die tomorrow, here are a few situations that I don't see panning out very well for either Matt or the kids:
Scenario #1: Brendan gets diarrhea in a public place that doesn't have a changing table in the bathroom. God help us all. It took me quite a few tries to conquer the standing poopy diaper change in a bathroom stall, and I still consider it quite the feat on the rare occasions that I have to do it. Changing table or not, Matt is so freaked out by poop diapers that he just starts yanking those wipes like a magician pulling ribbons out of his hat. He easily goes through 20 or so on a standard diaper change; which kind of ends up looking like Brendan had some kind of botched chemical peel treatment on his sweet little tush. All I can say to help you both in this situation is "deep breaths" (and try to take those breaths as far away from the actual diaper as possible).
Scenario #2: Matt has to buy a new car. If he has to take those car seats out, they ain't going back in. At least not correctly. There are some things that dads just don't seem to have patience for, and installing the car seats is one of them. Who is going to tell him that the strap up by the head goes over the seat and hooks behind it? Who is going to help him find the anchors and check that the car seat isn't installed too loosely? Can I possibly become a guardian angel and throw a force field blanket over the entire car?
Scenario #3: Matt lets Niall pick the cereal... forever. You know how there are certain father-son bonds that a mom just can't seem to get in on? Like... football, rough-housing, playing swords with their pee streams, etc. Well, for Matt and Niall, this would be going to the grocery store and picking out the most sugary, chemical filled, hydrogenated-fat-loaded cereal and then laughing about what a stick in the mud mom will be when she finds out. Now picture that happening every day (minus the laughing at mom, since that would seem a little inappropriate). When your kid already refuses to eat anything remotely healthy, adding Cocoa Puffs to his daily regimen probably isn't a good idea.
Scenario #4: Matt leaves the house without a snack. Classic rookie mistake. Good luck to you, my friend. I've been punched in the face by Brendan for far lesser infractions than getting into the car and realizing that I forgot the granola "AAH BAR!!! AAH BAR!!!!" The only reason I really worry about this one is that you might feel the urge, when you get punched in the face by Brendan (which you will), to punch him back. Please don't. Thanks :)
The more I thought about this kind of stuff, I realized that I really need to contemplate all of these little daily challenges and write my own private, informal will for Matt:
A Mother's Testament for her Toddlers' Survival (I haven't copyrighted this yet, so don't try to move in on my million dollar idea!)
Matt will never read it, but it will make me feel better to know that if he is really desperate and actually does check one time, I might be able to give him a little divine intervention.
But really, God, can you please wait until they're at least in middle school? That way, they might at least be potty trained. Key word: might.
Been there, done that. We are currently re-working our will as we speak.... Now it's grandkids we are willing for, not our own little babies. Yes, I guess you have to do the whole will thing, but then, it gives you some peace of mind before the actual END, whenever that happens. :)
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