How does she do it?

As we approach Mother's Day, I have recently learned first hand why I could never survive as a stay-at-home parent. My wife is a saint, oozing patience and compassion. I am a wuss.

Salome wrenched her back somehow on Friday and by Saturday morning was crippled to the point of being bed-ridden. For the past three days, I have tried vainly to tend to her needs and somehow manage to survive the 20 month old. Notice I don't use the words "watch", "look after" or "care for" when I describe the experience. One would actually have to be in control of the situation in order to go that route. I was used and abused by that child, a child that can neither speak nor walk, yet somehow manages to exist in three places simultaneously. No sooner do you resolve one crisis (the dog dish up-ended on the floor), than he is on to the next (out the door and half way to the stairs).

In the end, it was probably nothing more than usual that Salome deals with on a daily basis, but I swear the child sensed weakness and did everything in his power to drive his father insane. I have never been one to doubt the true measure of what my stay-at-home wife has accomplished with our children, but this experience has given me a new found respect and admiration. As I finish this blog, I imagine the fish tank is drained, the entire contents of the pantry are lying on the kitchen floor and TV remote has been hidden away never to be found again; but, heh, Salome is back on her feet... let her deal with it :-)