Train Me

Last night I spend one glorious hour alone.
Just me and Maroon 5 as I drove the 5 minute route to Target.
Just me and a blank mind as I walked up and down every, single, aisle.
Just me and a guilty conscience.

I purposely did not call or text my husband, because I didn't want to know that my son was screaming. I just wanted to hope he wasn't....
But he texted me asking when I would be home.
And I knew.  
So I speed walked my butt to the check out line and more or less ran out the door.

Tristan cried the entire time I was gone. No bottle, bath, toy, or song would soothe him. I walk into the nursery, he reaches out for me soaked in sweat and tears, and sighed with relief.

My poor husband looked at me and said, "You have to train me!!"

How do you train someone to be Momma? A boob suit, wig and a big helping of patience sounds right- but it never will be right to a baby. They just know- you ain't mom.

Since I have become a WAHM, and Tristan has had so many stomach and digestive issues- I have been pretty much his care giver. Jon has fed him maybe 4 times since August, and changed just about as many diapers. So obviously the first step is to involve him more.

But that would also involve training me, to be less of a mom- or a motherly voice rather. It's so easy for me to say "no I'll do it, you're doing it wrong" or "I can do it faster."

Right now if I want to get any sort of work out in, I have to be up around 4:30. When spring comes I fully intend to continue running outside which means leaving the hubs with the kids more.

So we have 3- 4 months to train each other to be better parents. Well, we have a lifetime of that- but we'll start with creating a daddy-liking baby first. 
I may need a drink each night once this adventure commences...