Of mummies and daddies

Who denies that mummies are the greatest?

We carry the bun in the oven for a whole nine months, and suffer aches pains scars forever on.
We grit our teeth and push like mad but daddy is the first one to see bub (the gore and blood amidst which babies are pooled in is not a pretty sight, admittedly).
We have to get up at odd hours while sleep-starved to pop the boob - and there daddy is blissfully drooling on his marathon snooze. And snoring, to boot.
We give up our jobs to stay home with the kids, throwing away our hard-earned qualifications to become homemaker instead of the high-flier we envisioned ourselves years earlier. (For a while, at least.)
We watch hours of babytv/barney/sesame street, read every book twice over, sing and recite every hymn or nursery rhyme we can remember just to get the kids to sleep, then daddy bangs the door while going to the loo.
We soak up pee from the sheets, clean our poop-stained clothes, sprint to the public john when the kids scream "I need to pee NOW" and all this time, daddy is enjoying his cuppa.

We always think of what we are going through, and chastise our other half for not doing enough.
But aren't they?

They carried our bags and massaged our legs when we were preggers aka not-so-little-mrs-grumps.
They held our hands during childbirth, ruffled our hair and cheered us on while all the time wishing they could take our place (and pain away) instead.
They sleep so that they can help out when we need to sleep. Well okay, maybe this one is a bit of a stretch. But they do lament that the boob ain't theirs anymore and that baby is bonding with us, not them.
They shoulder the responsibility of bringing home the bacon while we play house - not exactly their idea of what their life would be either, especially when we were all freezing together in central library and burning the midnight oil. Oh, and that's why they snore because they are too exhausted from work (and pretending like everything at work is easy and breezy, just so we wouldn't have something else to worry about.)
They banged the door because they had to go. Would you rather they did their business with the door wide open?
They seem not to have a pee-poop radar because they just don't. Shit happens, deal with it. Do you know what they did in NS? And it's not like they don't want to bring Junior to the public toilet but how many more ladies than gents are equipped with kiddo changing stations and mini toilet bowl seats? Plus do you really want your girl seeing a bunch of uncles and their *ahem* (no excuses if your kids are boys, I suppose).

So while mummies are awesome, don't forget that daddies are way up there too.

Thanks ZX, for being the best papa to our girls that you can be. And
For making them laugh and smile when mama is throwing a hissy fit. For bringing them out to play as you promised when all you actually want to do is concuss on the bed. For letting me stay home with them and enjoying their growing up years (and do bit parts of writing) while you slog it out.

I know there's nowhere you'll rather be here than here with us on your birthday. Right, maybe it would be a perfect-er picture if we were all camped somewhere outdoors with a caravan nearby and some crags along the way.
But still, Happy Birthday! Lots of love, hugs and kisses from us at home :)) We can't wait to see you!