So I was really really wrong

I used to say that I should have married a trucker.  The idea of being married, but not always living with your spouse appealed to me.  It wasn't a commentary on Truck's spousal abilities. He's pretty awesome company (boot comments aside). I just really like to be alone.

On August 2nd 2002, I stopped saying that.  That was the day Huck was born.  Truck was a very hands on daddy.  We were both clueless, but he seemed to rise to the challenge quicker.  I get frustrated with my own ineptitude and Truck just works through it until he gets it right. 

Huck was born on a Friday and I didn't change a diaper until the following Tuesday. Truck taught me how to wipe his little bottom and care for his circumcision and belly button.  He taught me to point the boy parts down (a VITAL step if you don't want your baby to pee out the top of the diaper) and how to get the diaper tabs tight and even.  Truck always combed his freshly washed baby hair just so.  He gave shoulder rides when I thought he was too small.  He was the preferred boo-boo kisser. He is calm and patient with boo-boos.  I either freak out because I am afraid they are hurt badly, or am impatient because I know they are not.

Then came October 25th, 2004.  The day we had been waiting for.  The day Truck got a really great job. It was the kind of job and paycheck we had been wanting.  Mentally challenging, physically exhausting, but financially rewarding.

All of the sudden, hands on dad became the golden boy of his employer. The training was grueling, but he excelled.  The hours were long, but he still put in more than everyone else.  The work was more often frustrating than rewarding, but he worked through it just like he did with the early days of Huck's infancy.  Then that first paycheck came in and the other stuff fell away. Truck recalls looking at it and thinking "Hell yeah, I get another of these in two weeks!"

He is still with the same company and is now on his second promotion.  His current position was formally offered on the day Worm was born.  He is still the golden boy.  The workload and frustration have increased exponentially.  The pay has been increased accordingly.  But his job has partially eclipsed Worm's life from day one.

I decided not to return to work when Worm was about a month old.  I have changed 99% of the diapers (Worm is a pooper, Huck was not, where is the justice?).  His hair usually looks like I took an eggbeater to it. I don't do shoulder rides (I am more of a silly song and dance girl). When he gets a boo-boo he just shakes it off unless he is really hurt (in which case I totally over-react).

I know we can't go back to how things were, but I promise you will never again hear me say I should have married a trucker.  I miss you tonight and I don't like doing this alone.