On Saturday I went to the grocery store, leaving my husband to take care of all 7 kids. When I came home he looked a little… not overwhelmed, but a bit tired, perhaps. As we were unpacking the groceries he told me this story…
“So, soon after you left Marie had a messy diaper. I put Grace down in the bouncy seat so I could change her. Halfway through the whole thing, the dog came barrelling through the playroom and pushed her way out the back door so she could play with the kids in the backyard. Thomas [who is now afraid of our dog for some reason] started screaming, so I jumped up, told Marie to stay there, and ran outside to see what was wrong with Thomas. I wrestled the dog back in, and came back into the playroom, to see Marie… standing there… with poop going down her leg, and a rather large chunk right next to her foot. Just as I made a move to get her, she stepped back right into it, started freaking out that she was dirty, and ran around the playroom, essentially tracking it everywhere.
“I have spent the past 30 minutes or so cleaning up Marie, her clothes, and the carpet.
“That was so much harder than solving any problem at work!”
I started to cry.
I’m so thankful to be blessed with a husband that UNDERSTANDS how difficult staying at home with the kids really is. I’m thankful for the opportunity and the privilege, but every now and then, a little bit of validation goes a long way.