6 A.M. Time to get up.

Where is breakfast?

Wait, back up.

Where is the food to make breakfast?

Ah! There it is – right in the cupboard and the refrigerator where Mom put it after we left the grocery store, filled the gas tank, and picked up the dry cleaning.

7:15 A.M. Time to brush teeth with the same store-bought items that Mom picked up, probably after making the beds, doing the laundry and picking my sister up from school.  The list is endless.

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I remember, vividly, being a kid – a pretty happy kid, actually.  I remember my mom dropping me off at school and picking me up. She would make us a snack and soon after begin dinner.  There were days when we went to a friend’s house or had after-school sports until 5:30 p.m., when my Dad walked in for dinner. My Mom handled it all.  Like all the people it takes to make a movie, I never saw what she did – only the finished product…this is the “movie memory” which is my childhood.

When I became a Dad, with my husband, the roles were a little different.  We were lucky that we were working for ourselves.  Ultimately, even if you work for yourself, you work for someone, but with more autonomy. In any case, we decided as late in life Dads, that we didn’t need a nanny or child care because our schedules were flexible enough that one of us could be home at all times. It turns out my schedule was more flexible.

All of this came as no surprise to me. In our relationship, I have always been the one to “run the house.”  My husband used to joke that he would put a dish in the sink and it would magically reappear clean and ready to use when he opened the cupboard.  Same with other large and small household items like food, cleaning products and personal products.

As the A-type in our relationship, it’s how I liked things to be done.  So when Ben was born, it was much the same.  I ordered the majority of his heavily-researched baby items, and took care of his laundry. I organized all his doctor’s appointments and made certain that all items would “magically reappear” clean and replenish themselves after general use.

Please understand, I am NOT complaining.  For every duty I perform, there is another behind-the-scenes-duty that my husband performs: that door jam suddenly doesn’t stick anymore; the baby’s room which has been designed and painted (while I am away at a funeral of a dear friend’s mother) a month before before our son’s birth; the bank balance which has increased; the sprinklers which are “magically”  working again.

We still argue about how we are each under-appreciated, but that comes with lack of sleep, a bad day at work, or simply, a sensitive moment.  If he’s reading this, (and he had better be reading this!), I know I am appreciated and I certainly appreciate him.  We just fell into our roles  and did what needed to be done.

The roles were never defined by us, but rather by others who watched our life together.  People would often comment about what I do and how I am like Ben’s “Mom.”  They would then almost immediately apologize and say something like, “Sorry, I don’t mean it that way but you know what I mean, right?”   I certainly did and was never flustered by it.  It was strange to me, however, that fellow Moms felt the need to qualify their obvious compliment to me.

As gay parents we have the luxury of truly appreciating all that our own Moms…and Dads…did for us.  Before I became a parent, I thought the Chips Ahoy cookies magically appeared in the the cupboard every Saturday morning when the cartoons were on TV.  If my Mom is reading this, (and she had better be reading this, too!), I just want you to know that I know. And, I thank you.

Yes, I am the “Mom” in our relationship but I’m also the “Dad.”   My husband juggles these roles, as well, whenever needed.  We are just trying to get it all done.  We are just trying to create a happy movie for our children’s childhood to play back when they have kids of their own.