I run my tongue across the chipped tooth and still feel it’s tattered edge..even though 20 years have passed since that rugby match wherein I almost lost it.  While recalling the primitive grunts within the scrum, I’m brought back to Earth by an unnecessarily loud ”I spotted the triple number!!” Yup, the time is 5:55 (Ella’s up by 2)..it’s an overly competitive game my girls like to play at dinner. And as I remove from the floor, whatever it was that my dog just mistakenly ate, I (yet again) attempt to coral the kids back to the table..unsuccessfully.  Times have indeed changed, but I think less than I have.

20 years later, I can strap on a Baby Bjorn faster than any pricey European nanny.  I can make blueberry pancakes arranged in such a smiley, artistic arrangement that it would make Picasso and Emeril jealous.  I am also able to coordinate which hair scrunchie goes with which outfit because, heaven forbid, the splash of turquoise hanging from my daughter’s ears, isn’t represented elsewhere on her ensemble.  One needn’t be fooled by my 6’2” frame, because when presented with some dire “friend” turmoil, I will listen..listen some more..comfort and then offer brief, non-judgemental advice..Well, I am working on that last part.

What does any of this have to do with what I’ve learned over the years?  I think that even though they supply us with their fair share of angst, we owe it to our kids, and to ourselves, to evolve as parents.  While everyone’s situation is different, everyone can challenge pre-determined notions of what they can be.  We all need to raise that bar! Dads as well..we can do anything Moms can do (within reason, of course).  The roles are completely mixed up at our house and I think not only does that squash gender stereotypes for our kids but it also shows them the strength and importance of positive relationships.   So Dads, get involved however/whenever you can.  There’s a huge rate of return here.  Now back to the kids..rugby was so much easier!