Sunday, June 7, 2015

Super Daddy Does It Again

There are reasons why our children call Chris not just "Daddy" but "Super Daddy!"

On Saturday, after Mean Ol' Mama supervised the children doing their music practice and theory homework, then cleaning their rooms, Chris gave me some respite by taking the four children to lunch, then to a splash pad and playground. When he got to the splash pad, he found out it was closed for the afternoon, so he took them to a second, open splash pad. They were gone, having fun in the sun, for nearly four hours.

They arrived home at four o'clock and had to be at the children's music recital at six, so there wasn't much time for cleaning up themselves and eating dinner.

I set about preparing boxed macaroni and cheese and boiled hot dogs (what we politely call "cooking" during my third trimester) when I promptly had a knife mishap and stabbed one finger. I've never needed to rush in for stitches, but in the glimpse we got as Chris and I wrapped my finger in a wash cloth, we knew right away that I had to go in.

I figured that was the end of the music recital for which John and Mary have been working so hard, but Chris suggested that, if I could drive myself the five minutes to the hospital (which I could), then he would have the van to still attend the recital.

"With all four kids?"


"You'll have to feed them and get them dressed!"

"I can do it."

Super Daddy pulled it off: finishing the dinner I had started without chopping any of his digits off, dressing the children (even if perhaps the girls' hair wasn't done up all pretty like Mama knows how to do), taking Mary's violin, and even remembering Mary's homemade gift for a birthday girl at the recital.

Meanwhile, I was sitting at the Emergency Room. The nice staff kept apologizing, saying it was "crazy busy" like a Sunday or Monday, but not like a typically slow Saturday. I was so grateful to have thought to grab a good book on the way out the door . . . because, really, should one ever be away from one's home library without a good book in one's purse? In the four hours I was at the hospital, I finished a book I've been reading about education with a strong theme against television consumption by children.

I didn't know the simple trick to raise my cut finger above my heart and no staff member mentioned it to me, despite watching my wash cloth become totally soaked while in the waiting room, so I was still bleeding profusely when they got to me three hours later. These were, I believe, my first stitches and I managed not to faint.

I was gone so long that Chris took the children to the 90-minute recital, juggling the 2- and 4-year-olds throughout, enjoyed the celebratory potluck afterward (Chris even took a dish he had cooked!), brought the kiddos home, and tucked them into bed, all before I walked in the door.

Cute girl at her big siblings' recital

I hear that John and Mary did beautifully at the recital, although we have no video of them because Chris' hands were understandably full. Mary played Titanium Toccata on the piano and Amazing Grace on the violin. John played the Star Wars main theme and Softly Whisper on the piano.
Image source
Chris managed all that, then cleaned the kitchen late into the night, and didn't act all stressed out and crazed like I would have done.

As I'd been forewarned, NSAIDs do little to dull pain in the extremities, so I lay awake most of the night. On the bright side, this allowed me to finish "1984" (which I read anew every few years) and Ina May Gaskin's "Guide to Childbirth"--which I highly recommend, mamas. Ah, well, I'd been conflicted about taking any NSAIDs, since they are bad for babies in the third trimester (due to pulmonary hypertension), so I gave up taking any more and will just tough it out for a couple of days. It is illuminating how much a gash in one silly finger can hurt!

Anyway, Saturday was a typical example of why this husband and father has earned the title SUPER DADDY around here!


  1. Being in constant pain isn't good for babies either... If you're hurting you could ask for your midwife to call in a weak non nsaid painkiller. Ouch. I'm so sorry!

  2. Should've said... Having the mother in constant pain! Not the baby. Still...ouch!