When Mommy Comes Back

Stone Cold Daddy handles the primary caregiving like a champ. Stone Cold’s kids have fun, he runs a tight ship, and doesn’t take any shit. Hell, I have no shame in patting myself on the back if I’m killing it. The kids love me.

Then mommy comes home and we instantly slip into a parallel universe where these kids lose their damn minds, treat me like the hired help, and hate the shit out of me. It’s like I go from Principal of the Year to incompetent substitute teacher as soon as these little muthafuckas hear Mommy’s voice.

You’re probably in need of some Stone Cold elaborative examples. If you’re a Mommy, you might be unfamiliar with Stone Cold Daddy’s pain. Let me break this shit down.

Chain of Command

When Mommy’s at work, my daughter’s gonna have to do a lot of shit she doesn’t want to do in the name of raising a responsible young lady, e.g. cleaning her room before snack, losing a privilege for repeated insubordination, and going to her room for being a screaming pain in the ass.

When Mommy comes home, our daughter’s directives don’t change. My rank changes. It’s like my stripes disappear leaving my flesh and blood the option to go over Stone Cold Daddy’s head.

I say, “no, you can’t have snack, we’re about to have dinner.” The little girl says “I want Mommy” translation, “I want to speak to your manager.”

“I want Mommy” or “I miss Mommy” somehow becomes an appropriate response to whatever it is I’m trying to get her to do. Stone Cold’s wife does the right thing and tells her to listen to Stone Cold, but unfortunately my daughter takes that as her cue to scream “Mommy” louder and play the role of a full-fledged lunatic.

Communication Issues

My daughter says “Mommy, is Daddy making me dinner?”

Mommy says “Yes honey, he is.”

Stone Cold says “I’m standing right here, I speak English, and I heard every fucking word of that exchange you ingrate!”

For some reason when Mommy’s around, I turn into an android with no ability to speak. My daughter assumes that proper protocol is sending directives through Mommy in order to program me with her agenda.

It may come as no surprise that this pisses Stone Cold off to no end. It takes every ounce of restraint not to dump gasoline over all of her toys, and make her watch until they turn to ash while I laugh maniacally.

Mommy’s the only Medicine

When the kids and Stone Cold Daddy are doing their thing, the decibel level is at a level you’d expect a household with two small children to be. My son’s happy, my daughter is happy (somewhat), and Stone Cold doesn’t rub his head temples so much.

Mommy opens the door and says hello, and these little bastards act as if they’re on fire and Mommy is water. They become impervious to Stone Cold’s attempts of comfort, and scream with their outstretched arms in Mommy’s direction as if she jumped down off the cross to deliver them from evil. Stone Cold Daddy gives them a stone cold stare and clutches the real cross for the strength to resist chugging a gallon of bleach.

This post needs to end abruptly because I hear mommy approaching the door and Stone Cold’s kids are about to turn on the migraine machine.