Mother’s instincts (15)

Why is it that we as moms inherently know what to do in most if not all situations and men don’t?  I was talking to a friend of mine today and she told me how her son was sick.  Her husband had picked up their son a little early from daycare, went home, and didn’t say anything to my friend.  She was at work late, and then came home to find her son still awake.  When she asked what happened, her husband said that he had a fever, was really complaining a lot, and refusing sleep.  (He hadn’t given the child any medicine, either, and God knows why!)  I guess the daycare had given him a warning about being sick at pick up, and he had a cough for a few weeks on and off and had been congested.  Right away, my friend was super annoyed.  Why didn’t her husband call a doctor as soon as he got home?  Or better yet, make an urgent care visit with the feverish child?  Wouldn’t any person do this to make sure their kid was okay, especially considering how he had been feeling for awhile now and all of the flu viruses going around??

Why is it that men wait for the women to make the decision on their children?  It’s not just for health, either.  It’s for everything.  I remember another friend telling me that her husband was afraid to let her go out when they first had kids because he didn’t know what to do if the baby cried.  He would text her or call her and ask what to try.  Yes, first time dad can be freaked out, but so are moms.  Why is it that these things fall to the mom in the situation?

Being into the biology thing, I understand that some things are nature vs nurture.  Some things are just bred into us from the start.  Some things are learned.  For mother’s instincts, I truly wonder if it has something to do with the fact that the mother is the one who goes through pregnancy.  We carry the baby around with us for 9 glorious months (10, if you want to get technical) and begin our nurturing process then.  We change our diets, we protect our bellies, we take better care of ourselves all so we can protect the little one growing inside of us.  We also go through that messy thing called birth which can definitely change a person (not just physically but mentally, too).  Now don’t get me wrong, I think my husband is a great father to our kids.  But why is it that I am the only one who ends up doing the kids’ laundry (unless their hampers are overflowing or I have been away for awhile – which almost never happens)? And why does my husband think my eldest’s recent bout with a stomach bug might just be something bad they ate, when I knew right away, it was a bug?

What is that saying, men are from Mars, women are from Venus?  How truthful is that?  Yes, we have many differences in us as man and wife, but why doesn’t the man adjust when we have kids like we do?  I read somewhere that when a father has to be the primary caregiver, his brain adjusts to be more maternal as a result.  This study was done with both men who were stay-at-home-dads and homosexual couples.  Women are more “prepped” for all of the infant factors that come with being a parent when they are pregnant.  I suppose that if men only do it when necessary, then science must be right.  Until our husbands are required to be more mommy-like (read “in dire situations where mommy is being an astronaut in outer space”), my friend will need to schlep her son to the doctor’s office when she thinks he needs it, and I will be the one to do my children’s laundry.  (And my husband will call my in-laws as reinforcements with the kids when I get that rare occasion to go to the international space station.)  Guess that’s just the way it is.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s