Head to toe...from her great grandmother

Yes, I'm that mother. I'm that mother that doesn't like to expose an ounce of unncessary skin on my daughter.

It's rare that Lily isn't wearing a onesie.  If it's even remotely cold outside, I can't bear the thought of that little bottom scooching to pick up a toy and the bare back being exposed to a possible cold gush of something.

When I was growing up, having our shirts tucked out of our pants in the winter meant a cold was coming on. To this day, if I walk around my parents' house barefooted, my mother chases me around in homemade slippers and puts them on me. It's an art form she's mastered and I can't seem to replicate just yet. Until I do, I will continue to pull my daughter's pants high around her onesies, paying homage to my mama and babas along the way.

Michael and I spent a portion of our Saturday afternoon watching our little girl practice her walking skills at a Chicago Park District play room around the corner from our house. There she was, in a little tutu, teetering around the room like a pro. Born a month early, Lily is a thriving, hilarious, walking one year old little ball of awesomeness.  Before we were ‘officially’ parents, Michael and I made the conscious decision for one of us to stay at home with our daughter.  Given Michael’s ability to consult and write from home, we decided it was best for him to work out of the house.

And it’s the best decision we ever made.

I spent a hearty portion of my early days back at work explaining to people that we didn’t use a nanny or daycare and that it wasn’t right for us. I have nothing against those arrangements. Different strokes for different folks, right?  I continued to be taken aback by the perception of what it meant to have a dad that ‘stayed at home’.  I almost thought people imagined my husband wearing sweat pants, watching ESPN clips round the clock and occasionally changing our daughter’s diapers. 

Life at our house has been quite the opposite.

It took a few months, but Michael and I have become a well tuned baby caring machine. The mornings are mine. I typically set aside Lily’s clothes for the week/day, handle the laundry and write the random to-do list of things to do.  I go between the bathroom and the living room playpen area, checking in on Lily as I get ready for work. We sing, play games and do those little things that only she and I do. I refuse to show them to anyone:).

As soon as breakfast is started and I’m out the door, Michael is up and takes over. Between play time, meal planning, feedings (we make the majority of Lily’s food from scratch), naps and laughs Michael fits in client meetings, phone calls and writing.  When we need the extra help, there are a few babysitters we trust, along with calling on my mother in law to help us out. Michael works at a wine bar a few nights a week. On those nights, we are literally a tagging each other in like a wrestling match.  I won't see him again until after I'm asleep. We have date night every week and spend the other nights relaxing, reading or spending time with our respective friend groups. Weekends are all about our trifecta.

I applaud Sheryl Sandberg’s thoughts on family and giving fathers equal weight in the role they play raising children. Yes, my husband was the only man in the Moms, Pops and Tots class last week, but that didn’t make him flinch. Instead, it made him even more proud of being present in Lily’s life, seeing every hysterical face she makes during the day.

I do miss some ‘firsts’, but I also have a husband that makes a point to record everything - or act like he didn’t ‘see’ anything to make sure I see things first. I love him even more for that.

Here's to doing things YOUR way.  Dad, mom, sister, aunt, nanny, daycare, grandma, neighbor, babysitter share, etc. Don't let anyone question how you decide to raise your kids.

Thanks mom and dad, for effortlessly reminding me about what's important.