The Best Nanny Ever

I brag about my amazing husband and try to be ok with him becoming a better mom than I am.

So, Quinn has been freaking about her B-O-T-T-L-E these days. She wakes up from a long nap, but she is only happy for 10 seconds before screaming at me for a bottle. She's back to waking up multiple times in the night for that wretched M-I-L-K, and all for her words are turning into "A Ba, A Ba, A ba" (with her finger pointed toward the kitchen and her face contorted into quite the little attitude.) A few days ago Tim and I talked about how we're not sure we can handle it anymore, and we're not sure what to do.

In an unrelated event, I left for work the next day feeling like my poor daughter was going to lose a whole day of her life because -- come on -- what's in a day without the momma anyway? But I got home several hours later and was greeted by a happy child who was holding her new sippy cup and a husband who whispered, "I never gave her a B-O-T-T-L-E today. She's rolling with it."

What? That is crazy! I was so proud of them both, but I started to cry especially when I realized this was no accident; and it was not easy. He had had to distract her all day, come up with new game plans, deal with a few fits, and feed her non stop since her little belly was not full of M-I-L-K like it normally is.

There doing it without me, I thought. More tears. They get along fine without me. More tears.

But what am I complaining about. This is great. I surrender. And trust me I have. I don't claim to know the slightest about how this B-O-T-T-L-E thing works. This is daddy's thing. I have to ask him for help everyday when I get home because the minute she sees me she starts working on me to cave. The little tears. The little fits. The big hugs. It breaks my heart, and I have to say, "Bob (Tim), help. I don't know how to do it. Can you try giving her the M-I-L-K in a cup? I do it all wrong." Look at my amazing husband.

But I've got to tell you that this time last year I was coming home from work to a 6 month old baby who had been squeezed into a newborn-sized sleeper playing on the floor that had toys and dishes and junk everywhere. The guilt combined with the mess was like poison for my soul, and I would turn into a crazy person. I would stomp around cleaning the house.

I was exhausted after my long days and totally angry that he couldn't manage to do more than keep the baby alive. (He forgot to feed her solid food for a few months...) I got so made after two weeks of this that I fired him as my nanny. I took a second job, and spent my new earnings at a day care. It figured it was this or divorce. Extreme times. Extreme measures.

After a few days of Tim taking Quinn to daycare at 9 a.m., he said to me, "What if I don't want to take her to day care? Can I just keep her home with me. We have fun."

"NO!" I said. "You have lost your privileges. It is too late!"

Then I remember the next week I got home from my crazy day, and the blanket in the front room was folded and thrown neatly over the couch. I took a deep breath. We were going to get through this. Six weeks later Quinn and her nanny were reunited, and things have improved every week since. And now he's looking up B-O-T-T-L-E weening on the Internet without me and going for the gold. What a jewel!

Yesterday as I was driving home from work, I got a call from Tim and Quinn.

"Hi," he said. "I was just wondering if you wanted to meet Quinn and me for a snowie on your way home."

"Are you kidding?" I said. "That sounds like the best idea I have ever heard."

"Coool," he said. "I wanted to get Quinny a treat since she went another day without a B-O-T-T-L-E."

Now that is a great Mom if I've ever known one.

So here's to my husband. A man who follows his dreams, bathes the baby, makes great Mac and Cheese and works it as both a mom and a dad. He never complains. He never criticizes.

He rarely retorts.

Best Nanny ever. Best Dad ever. Best Friend ever.