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By
Jon Buzby
Several months ago I was sitting at my wife’s baby shower listening to my cousin’s wife talk about life at their house since the infestation. Not bugs, kids.
She said it took her a while to make her husband realize that he was now just an assistant coach on the team called Family.
I’m not sure he was ever the head coach but am pretty sure at one point he was at least the co-coach. But now he has been demoted to assistant coach. I’m not sure even he’s convinced of this yet, but after hearing a few stories, I am.
So I have to ask myself, with the birth of my child am I headed for the same relegation? Am I done calling plays in my own house? At least ones that count. I’m sure I’ll still have the freedom to decide how to arrange the trashcans and what night to cut the grass. Sort of like the assistant coach in charge of arranging the chairs during timeouts.
I’m sure the scene is similar in households all over the country where mom is home all day with the kids and dad arrives after work ~ like a visiting team in a foreign arena playing in the last quarter of a very long game. He walks through the front door and the kids bombard him asking questions that they hope have different answers than the ones they’ve been getting all day from mom. Mom no sooner had them settled down in front of the TV and Dad storms in ready to play kickball ~ in the house.
Mom has laid out the entire game plan for the evening as far as dinner, dessert, baths and television and dad comes home and diagrams a new play. Instead of dinner, bath and television, Dad decides to “help” Mom out and treat the family at the local ice cream parlor and eliminate TV time to give his wife an earlier break.
After this announcement all hell breaks loose. One kid is tearing around squealing with delight anticipating his favorite cone while the other is furious that her favorite show is on after the newly announced bed time. Dad is trying to quiet one child and calm the other while Mom comes running in to help. Meanwhile the water boils over, the dog gets stepped on, and the spill-proof juicy cup gets thrown in anger ~ and turns a spot on the white carpet bright red.
Great start to the fourth quarter. Way to go coach.
One thing I never heard growing up in my house was, “Just wait until your father gets home and he’ll deal with you.” Or, “Your father will make that decision when he gets home.” My mom needed no help dealing out discipline or establishing the evening strategy.
Nor will my wife. Consequences will be handed down swiftly, reasonably and not expected to be overturned when I walk through the door or I’ll be benched. Evening routines will be developed with thought and tactic based on the plays of the day prior to my arrival.
A friend of mine once told me that the most important conversation he and his wife have the entire day is on the cell phone before he arrives home. They discuss the ups and downs of their day but most importantly, the kids’ days. What has happened, who did what to whom, along with the consequences already dealt, and what the routine will be for the rest of the night ~ as diagrammed by the Head Coach (a.k.a. Mom).
This way there are no surprises, misinterpretations or, to borrow a basketball phrase, no flagrant foul ups by Dad (a.k.a. Assistant Coach).
I can’t help but think that if every set of parents took just five minutes before Dad arrives home (or maybe it would be Mom in today’s modern society) to discuss the plays of the day and the game plan for the rest of the night, evenings all over the country would be a little more peaceful.
There would be less timeouts, fewer fouls and most importantly, everyone would win.
Jon Buzby’s columns appear in newspapers and magazines around the country as well as numerous websites. He is also a frequent public speaker and has written two books. He can be contacted through his website at
www.jonbuzby.com.
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