Another Strike Against Daddy?

Over the past three and a half years, I've noticed a few things about the nature of being a stay-at-home dad--specifically, that it seems to fly in the face of nature.

Besides societal norms and expectations--which I rather butt heads with on a regular basis (Specifically, every time someone asks me "what do you do?" and I reply "I'm a stay-at-home dad" and then they give me a complicated perplexed/sympathetic/pitying/condescending looking of "knowing." And what they "know" is that I'm a loser who can't hold down a real job. I'm not saying that I have any grounds to dispute this judgment on their part, but I get a little sick of seeing it in people's faces all the time.)--I'm finding that there are some basic, natural inclinations that children have that seem to suggest that mothers, rather than fathers, are MEANT to be primary care givers.

I've mentioned some of these in the past, so I won't dwell on them again now, but I think I discovered another one recently and I have a video of Norah displaying this basic, inherent characteristic.

Obviously there is a lot going on in this video. Many of them hilarious things (and I love that she displayed her complete lack of listening skills and flair for drama queening for all the world to see), but the first part is what is relevant to what I was discussing. For much of the last week, she's been saying "Mama" all the time. At first, I thought she was just wanting Libby for something or other, even though she was gone, so I spent a great deal of time explaining "work" and being gone to her. But then it slowly started to dawn on me that she wasn't asking for Libby, she was asking for ME. And she kept doing it (and is still doing it) despite my insistence that I am "Dada." And she can say "Dada" without any trouble. If I say, "Say Dada, Norah." She'll repeat it right back to me.

So then I go through a series of "Me Tarzan" type rituals to try and get it to sink in, but she will almost immediately insist that I am, instead, Mama.

And I don't think it's a stretch to assume that she is doing this because she is naturally inclined to believe that the person who is taking care of her SHOULD be Mama. The fact that I am a male doesn't figure into her labeling process. I am home, thus I am Mama.

Just one more stereotype that I have to break. Sigh. It's so difficult being so groundbreaking all the time.

But isn't that little tantrum at the end great? I'm just getting ready to tell her that she's going to fall down, and she does. Then the crying jag (which lasted until I left the room and she didn't have an audience anymore)! Just awesome.

So there's that.

Last night, we took a few pictures of the kids that I thought I'd share, too, just for shits and giggles.

Gabe still hasn't outgrown his love of cramming himself into boxes. I still remember when he was small enough that we could put some blankets in there and let him use it like a bed. Not sure what the appeal is, but, then, I'm not the kind of person who would climb a mountain "because it was there" either.

Norah "cheesing." It's gone from being a cheesy smile to something far more creepy. I'm interested to see where it ends up.