When I was at Girl Scout camp one of the activities on the first night was that we were supposed to stand on a picnic table and free fall backwards and let our cabin-mates catch us.
I went last. And I bent.
Know what I mean?
I bent at the waist — so some unfortunate girl got the brunt of my bony bottom.
When I was in high school, a boyfriend asked me to do that same thing — fall backward and let him catch me.
I didn’t want to.
He argued with me and said it was the true trust test.
In the middle of the argument, I said, “Okay, fine, here I go.”
And I fell flat onto the grass.
So what I’m saying is — that game sucks.
And also, trusting people with my own self is hard.
Trusting people with Tom is near impossible.
Tom isn’t falling backwards off of picnic tables — but only because I am watching him like a hawk.
And I don’t know if it’s that he’s at an age where he seems to be seeking out choke hazards, or if it’s that I’m staying home with him full-time right now — but all of a sudden it’s gotten harder for me to trust him with others.
And by “others” I mean Kevin.
Now, I trust Kevin with my life. I trust Kevin with Tom’s life.
He is an awesome husband and father.
So when I say I don’t trust Kevin with Tom — I don’t mean it as harsh as it sounds.
I mean, I don’t trust Kevin will feed Tom yogurt as a snack.
I’m not sure Kevin knows that wet diapers also need to be changed.
Last week I worked at the television station in the early mornings, but was home by 9:30 a.m. to be with Tom for the day. Tom usually wakes up between 6 and 7, so I had to give Kev instructions on how Tom and I do our mornings.
And what I discovered was that…
1. I had a hard time handing over those mornings.
2. Even with the instructions, those mornings went nothing like our normal mornings.
After Monday morning, I added more instructions.
After Tuesday, I wrote things down.
After Wednesday, I mentioned just one more tiny little instruction.
And by Thursday I realized I was nuts.
And I stopped the insanity.
Tom was fine. He was alive. He has a dad who loves him very, very much.
He also has a dad who is willing to put up with his nut of a mom.
And I don’t know what finally snapped me out of it — but I finally realized that Kev can do things his own way and it will be fine.
Tom won’t be scarred for life if Kev gives him formula instead of oatmeal for a few mornings. Or if Kevin puts Tom down for a nap, but doesn’t turn on the humidifier.
And I have no idea why it took me three days to realize that, but it did.
I do think Kev would catch me.
I know he would catch Tom.