Presenting My Findings

I was chatting with my husband on the phone today and he told me how sweet our youngest daughter has been to him this morning. Before he leaves for work each day he always goes in, kisses the girls, and tells them goodbye. Typically, he gets snores, snorts, drool, and grumbles in response (especially from me, I'm ashamed to admit). But, apparently this morning our four-year-old opened her deep, dark eyes for a moment, smiled the biggest smile you can imagine, and told him how much she loved him, and couldn't wait until he got home from work again. Then, she insisted on one more hug before rolling over and going back to sleep.

Fast forward about an hour. The same, sweet child had come into my room sometime in the interim, and snuggled down in bed next to me. I awoke to see her precious little face, and I wrapped my arms around her, marveling at what a miracle each and every new morning is. After a moment, she opened her deep, dark eyes, stared intently into mine, and said, "When are you making shrimpy noodles for me?" Hmmm... Somehow that didn't go like I thought it would. But, that's okay, because a mom is not a dad.

Dad is fun and spontaneous. Dad is the bringer of treats. The taker to new places. The fun driver. The adventure seeker. The excitement in an otherwise monotonous life. Dad has cool stuff that is off limits and infinitely  more appealing because of it. Even though he is a grownup, he still buys stuff just for the pleasure of having it - the quintessential definition of a toy. Plus, to my girls at least, Dad has gifts and talents that they can only dream of. Not only can he fix any broken item and always find the right battery or bulb, but his mysterious anatomy allows Dad to pee outside. Awesome.

Mom, on the other hand, is not so spontaneous. Mom is the maker of food. The everyday chauffeur. The monotony in an otherwise exciting life. Mom has ordinary stuff that is (at least, in the minds of the kids) common property and infinitely more expendable because of it. Mom never was a child, and only buys things that are useful, necessary, and on sale. Not only is Mom the essence of prudence, but her anatomy doesn't do any cool tricks except, apparently, for enabling her to find things.

Look, I watched 'the film' in fourth grade and paid avid attention to the wonder and magic of the female reproductive system. I understand fallopian tubes, and ovaries, and complicated hormones as well as the next gal. Yet, despite three pregnancies, two ultrasounds, and full-color photographs of the exploratory surgery to my lower abdomen (I'll have to explain later), I have yet to understand how a uterus helps women find things. But, it must be so. No one wanders around my house plaintively whining, "Daddy, can you help me find my..." And, I'm certainly not the one who constantly asks the other members of the household where things are. Nope. Quite the contrary - apparently I am the one who always knows where things are (or, at least, should).

Naturally, I have concluded that beyond just being able to create and grow a baby, a uterus must also be a tracking device. Someday a white-coated scientist will discover a little, blipping microchip-like structure embedded deep inside a womb, and the mystery will finally be solved. Mind you, for such a find as that, it will have to be a female scientist, of course.

Until then, I will be content to not be able to water the flowers anatomically. I will also be more than happy to be the finder of lost things, the ho-hum helper, and the maker of shrimpy noodles. Dad may get the morning and evening hugs, but I get all the rest while he has to be at work. The greeting he gets tides him over until he returns home again at the end of the day. The greeting I get is filled with the promise of hours and hours together. Dad's spontaneity and my monotony make a fine balance for our family, and one that serves us all very well. In fact, I think you'd be hard pressed to find a better combination. And I should know - apparently I'm equipped to find anything...