My baby turned two years old last week. We decided to forgo a party and instead take her to the Birmingham Zoo with her grandparents. I was a little worried about the heat when I initially planned the trip, but thanks to the cooler weather that blew in for a little while, it ended up being a gorgeous day. We looked at “rep-towels” and monkeys, watched the lion training, ate some overpriced burgers and ice cream, fed a giraffe, and rode the train. My favorite part was listening to my daughter excitedly exclaim “chicken!” every time we saw an animal with feathers. Bright red macaw? “Chicken!” Majestic golden eagle? “Chicken!” She didn’t call the ostrich a chicken, but that may be because the ostrich looked like it wanted to eat us, and she didn’t want to give it a reason. We were all exhausted by the end, but happy. Especially after another Auburn win rounded out the perfect day.
But something a little less than perfect happened in me while we were at the zoo. I should note here that my husband, Jonathan, is an incredibly supportive husband and father. I could not do this parenting thing without him. He is just much more relaxed and easy going than I am.
It started when we got to the lorikeet aviary. We had just missed the sea lion show because we didn’t know what time it started, so I was on my phone trying to find the activity schedule to see what other shows we could catch. Jonathan, who is fully in touch with his inner child, had already purchased two tiny cups of nectar, and he and his dad were preparing to take our daughter into the aviary. He asked me if I wanted the other cup, and I mumbled something about giving me a minute to check the schedule. By the time I looked up again, he had already given the second cup to a stranger and was about to walk in. I was a little peeved. He asked if I was coming and I said no. I stayed with the stroller and my mother-in-law and moped while they went to feed the birds. I did eventually go in for a couple minutes but quickly decided I didn’t want bird poop on me. 
It happened again at the giraffe feeding. My mother-in-law and I wanted to see if my daughter would be afraid of the giraffes, so we took her up to the fence. Jonathan went and bought a ticket to feed them. We all got in line, and I asked who was taking our daughter in to feed them. Jonathan said he was and asked if I wanted a ticket also. (He would like me to note here that he believed I was just in a “no” mood, and he didn’t think I wanted to do any of the extra experiences.) I said no (his belief was not entirely unfounded), that only one of us would be able to hold our daughter anyway, so it was a little wasteful to buy another ticket so the other person could just stand there. He sensed my frustration and purchased another ticket anyway. He knew I would miss out on something fun just because I was being stubborn. Our daughter ended up doing great, and we got some cute photos of all three of us. At the time, I didn’t understand why these incidents irked me the way they did. They weren’t big deals, and we had a great day. All I knew was that I was a little put out.
After some reflection, I realized why I was annoyed. Part of the reason was financial. I keep our budget in mind or actively check it before every single purchase I make. Then I split and log the receipt by category. I have to keep a running list in my head of food, household, personal care, and baby items that we are low on and then think through what we can get this month based on how they fit in the budget. I know I’m a frugal person (thanks, dad!), and I’m definitely the saver in our family. It was a source of contention when we first got married, but since we had our daughter and I quit working full time, Jonathan jumped on my thrifty bandwagon (the wheels are a little squeaky but we have plenty of coupons! Bad joke, sorry). This mindset is hard for me to break. It’s hard to go from being hyper aware of every dollar spent to buying things left and right. We actually only bought food and a few tickets to things (for a grand total of about $10) but it felt like we were making a lot of purchases. Even though we had budgeted for this trip, as someone who agonizes over parting with every penny, it felt indulgent to me. Please don’t get me wrong, as annoying as our budget is to me sometimes, I’m not complaining. This is the life we chose. I could have continued working full time, and we would have way more room in the budget. 
The other part of my frustration was deeper and took me longer to figure out. Somewhere along the way, I’ve internalized the idea that moms exist to facilitate the fun, rather than participate in it. Moms are for packing the bags and making sure snacks are plentiful. Moms are for setting meal times, nap times, bath times, and bed times. Moms are for checking and changing endless diapers, clipping fingernails before they turn into tiny daggers, and ensuring that teeth are brushed at least once a day so they don’t fall out. Moms are for making sure that the right blankets and stuffed toys are packed so that sleeping happens without a fight. Moms are for applying sunscreen and making sure enough water is consumed. Moms are for keeping track of the color, consistency, and frequency of poopy diapers. Moms are for checking temperatures, kissing boo boos, and making doctors appointments. Moms are for discipline and protection from dangerous exploration (anyone else’s kids obsessed with power outlets??). Moms are for making sure pjs are clean and sippy cups are labeled and meals are healthy. Ish. Moms are for scheduling playdates and chauffeuring to preschool and library story time. Moms are for keeping the grocery list, and activity calendar, and weekly menu. Moms are for knowing where ALL the things are ALL the time.
What I’ve failed to realize is that moms are also for fun. I may spend a lot of time with my daughter, but most of that time is taking care of her, not having loads of fun. When my husband, in-laws, parents, or other family members are around to spend time with my daughter, I slip into a background role. I handle the logistics, while they spend quality time playing. At the zoo, I got frustrated because I automatically went into background mode instead of enjoying new experiences with my daughter. But I really wanted to! I wanted to hold her while she watched the birds. I wanted to help her feed the giraffes. In that moment, I wanted my husband to read my mind. To say, “Here, I got you a nectar cup. Go take our daughter to see the birds, I’ll stay with the stroller and check the online schedule.” My husband is a wonderful man, but he’s not yet figured out the telepathy thing. So from now on, I’ve decided that I’m not going to take a backseat to the fun. I’m gonna jump right in there and make sure that I’m a part of my daughter’s fun memories, not just holding the diaper bag and sunscreen in the background.
