But if its our baby, then we think its funny, or cute, or sweet.
For example, flatulence. When our spouse passes gas, it normally results in comments of disgust, outrage, and possibly, depending on the severity of the green gaseous cloud, threats of divorce.
When our five month old lifts her leg and lets it rip, we laugh.
When our husband makes a mess eating, we gripe and complain about bad table manners.
When its our baby, out comes the camera to capture the moment for posterity.
Diarrhea is greeted with a quick vacating of the area if its an adult, but if its a baby, we step right in and start cleaning. Same for vomiting. If my husband threw up on me, his world would suddenly end. When my baby does it, its a grimace and a clean up, but no real hysterics, even when its running down my blouse and making me smell oh so lovely and fragrant.
When our husband hogs the bed, there are elbows, knees, and dire warnings involving pillows and oxygen involved. With a baby, its a suffer in silence as your arms go numb and you cling to the last 2 inches of available bed space.
Dare to wake us in the middle of night to demand a feeding, not only would our husbands be told to get it themselves, but marital relations would be swiftly curtailed. But a baby does it, we drag our weary bodies from bed to oblige.
A baby needs to be rocked to soothe, fine, we're there. But I am not rocking my husband to sleep.
There is a distinct double standard. Why is it cute or acceptable when a baby does behaviors our husband's get in trouble for? Is it just due to age? Experience? Manners? When does it stop being okay and become no way?
No comments:
Post a Comment