Ever since Emma’s asthma diagnosis, Scott has been worrying. A lot.
I get texts every day asking if Emma is coughing. Or if she’s having allergy symptoms. Or if she played outside at school today. Or if we played outside for our weekly playdate. Or if she’s been outside on our swingset. I get a list of questions from him when he walks in the door.
On any given day he can tell you exactly what the mold, pollen, and air pollution counts are.
Like all his hobbies, he researches obsessively. He gets all the facts he can find about allergies and asthma. He follows all nurses and doctors orders or advice. There is nothing he doesn’t know about the subjects.
He does things as simple as making sure she gets a bath every night including washing her hair to make sure the pollen is off her. He has also suggested things as extreme as getting rid of both dogs so they don’t bring in pollen. He has been on a farmers market frenzy looking for local honey. He read that your body can build a resistance to the pollen allergy if you eat the local honey. He hasn’t found any honey yet. It would not surprise me one bit if he started his own little bee hive in the backyard of our new house. The playdate moms would LOVE that one…geez. He tells me he knows he worries too much. Good thing he has me to balance him out. I have faith in the daily maintenance inhaler. I try not to obsess about her outdoor time. I want her to be a normal kid and play outdoors. But seriously, it’s like living with a strict nurse. Daddy Pook, Rn.
Emma has fallen in love with Scott after all this attention from him. They are inseparable. Emma wants to do everything with him. She follows him. She talks like him. She listens to his hunting stories. She takes pictures with dead turkeys, holding their fan out. She wants to listen to “daddy’s country music” in the car. She suggests going to Cabela’s on the weekend with him. She wants to marry him. She will always pick Scott over me, lately.
Scott wanted to go workout a few days ago. Emma was in tears when he said he was leaving. She begged him not to go. He felt terrible. He debated if he should go. I told him to just go. I could handle her. Somehow after almost 5 years, we have switched roles. I feel like Scott has stepped into the role of a “new” mom.
Constantly worrying about the child’s health…
Sneaking out to get time to yourself…
The terrible guilt you have when you do leave your crying child behind….
Feeling like you call your pediatrician way too much over tiny details…
Someone always waiting for you, banging on the door, the second you step out of the shower…
I remember Scott used to get upset at “baby” Emma because she didn’t “love” him. She would scream at him. She didn’t want anything to do with him most days. He would tell baby Emma that he can’t wait until she’s 3 or 4 and they could play around. His patience is paid off. She’s head over heels around him. They are both obsessed with each other.
I’m ok with this, for now. I still have my little peta-shirt-wearing, Kate, on Team Mommy.