Like a lot of Mommy Friends, I crave a peaceful home environment and we all know life with children isn’t exactly conducive to such cravings.
I’ve said it a million times before, in my house there’s either laughter or tears with very little in between. I’m starting to wonder if “nice play” is a child impossibility or at least an impossibility for my children…and husband.
When Big Daddy P is around, I instinctively breathe a sigh of relief knowing I only have to carry half of the parental load. Turns out, my instincts have failed me because when Daddy is around and the playing begins, I suddenly become mom to an extra child.
Boy play is rough. Nice hands and gentle play transform into wrestling and full blown battle instantaneously. I think dads love aggressive play; they love it so much that they often initiate it. Big Daddy P comes home and within 30 seconds the kids are dog piled on top of him; let the wild rumpus start! The play escalates; the dog pile begins to roll around on the floor in a cloud of dust like in the cartoons. I see a quick arm or leg jet out amidst the chaos as they become a swirling tornado of destruction in my living room. Toys and shoes start a flyin’ and I’m ducking for cover and grabbing hold of my valuables.
And then it happens, the inevitable scream followed by a wailing cry. Mommy Friends, rough play has gone too far and Dad is to blame.
This scenario happens pretty much daily in my household and no matter how much I plead with Big Daddy P to play gentle, the song remains the same. We are left with crying kids, an irritated Mommy Friend and Big Daddy P sitting back, basking in the wake of his destruction. Um, congratulations Big Daddy P on victory over your adorable archrivals, really?
Somebody please explain this to me, I honestly can’t figure it out. I’ve chalked it up to some great mystery of life I will never understand (like daylight savings or magnets). I believe it has something to do with Testosterone and/or primal Alpha Male behavior but I can’t be sure. I do know that Daddy rough play has gotten old and becoming Mommy to 3 boys was not an assignment I willingly signed up for.
So it seems this is how Dad relates to the kids and they love it until they hate it, and then they love it some more. As for me, I’m staying out of it; one accidental elbow to the eye was lesson enough for me.
As the adage goes, it apparently is all fun and games until somebody loses and eye.