Head in the Game

I remember a time when the boys were small. Strange to say, since they're only three and five now... but they were smaller than they are now. Perhaps three and one.

Robb and I were fixing dinner, and they were having a mutual meltdown. Tyler was in his high chair, throwing a fit. Tucker was spinning in circles around the kitchen, throwing a fit. They were hungry, and we couldn't get food going fast enough.

And in the chaos of their noise and melting, I began to throw a fit of my own. One of those, they've-pushed-me-to-my-limit-and-I-may-lose-my-mind moments. If you've been the parent of toddlers, perhaps you know that moment of 'slightly elevated' blood pressure.

Robb stopped the meal prep, looked squarely at me and said, "No, not you too. I swear, I will walk out that door right now and leave you three to dinner on your own if you start to lose it too. I need you to do this, baby girl. Think with me. I need you on my team."

I've thought often of that scene, of when he begged me to get my head in the game. And in that moment, I did. He asked me to. He asked me to step up, do my part, and help him as the other half of this parenting team.

Sometimes, first thing in the morning, I remember that scene. As a new day awaits, another day without him in it. When it's all more than I can handle: the getting dressed, the planning the day, the decisions, plans, motions, and the world happening around me.

And I think of him saying, "Please. I need you to do this, baby girl. Think with me. I need you on my team."

And I get out of bed. Because I'm the other half of this parenting team.