I'm a Control Freak

The CEO of the household -- that's me. But could I let my husband take over in a pinch?

I recently went on a business trip to San Francisco. As common as business travel is for my husband, it is a rare occurrence for me. Since I am the primary knowledge-holder of the day-to-day particulars of rearing our two young children -- namely the management of schedules, school drop-offs and pickups, packing of lunches, extinguishing of tantrums, etc. -- there was an inevitable transfer of control, er, information that needed to take place prior to my absence.

My husband and I both work, but since I do so from home and have more exposure to the kids' daily schedules, I feel I'm more in tune with the pulse of the household. Jeff, ever so willing to help out, is still removed from the household goings-on while at work, so bringing him up to speed on what needed to be done, when it needed to be done, and how it is usually done began to take place as soon as my plane ticket had been purchased. My friendly reminders typically weaved their way into the conversation patchwork in pithy statements such as:

"Remember to bring their lunches in the morning."

"Don't forget to fill out the day-care contact sheet so they know how to reach you."

"Thursday is when you need to bring their nap stuff home to be washed."

And this is the clear winner: "Don't forget to pick the kids up." After having said it, I glanced up, laughing at the absurdity of the statement, made absent-mindedly, only to be greeted by a look that indicated that my friendly reminders were no longer welcome.

It's not that I think my husband is incapable of handling the kids. He is an incredible father and does more than his fair share around the house. It's more a matter of me being able to let go of the reins a little. Fine, a lot. I am someone who likes to have control and be in control.

When we had our first baby four years ago, a labor and delivery nurse at the hospital gave me some sage advice. She said, "Remember, there will be a mommy way to do things and a daddy way to do things. Both are right." She must have sensed that I was a borderline Type A personality when they wheeled me in. In those clueless days following the birth, I would stop myself before saying something to Jeff like "Is that how you're going to . . . ?" I realized that his way wasn't the wrong way; it was just different from mine. Fast-forward four years, and I still think about the wise words from that nurse. Yet even though our parenting styles have evolved together and mesh well, there are still instances when I think the mommy way is the better way. I try to keep those thoughts to myself, though.

Everything had been going along swimmingly during my trip to San Francisco, but near the end, the phone rang early one morning. "You wouldn't believe how crazy last night was," Jeff said. Uh-oh. Was someone up sick all night? Did he give any medicine? Did he call the doct . . . Before I could finish my thoughts, Jeff proceeded to tell me about the huge ice storm that had knocked out our power, left us without heat, flooded our basement, and required my parents (designated baby sitters for the day) to drive an hour to our house, only to turn around and retreat back to their heated house with both kids in tow. Jeff had been up at 3 o'clock in the morning, moving boxes onto shelves in the basement, packing up perishables from the fridge, gathering clothes and enough stuff for the kids to last who-knows-how-long, all the while trying to get himself to work -- entirely in the dark.

After Jeff told me everything that he had accomplished in the wee hours of the cold morning, I didn't even bother asking about any of the "essentials" I wondered if he had packed for the kids. What I realized in that moment was that even though I was 3,000 miles away, knowing everything and managing everything didn't seem that important anymore. What mattered was that the kids were safe and well taken care of. Regardless of whether I'm there or I'm away, that will always be the case, and I know everything will be under control.

Jeana Lee Tahnk is a writer in Newburyport and a national columnist for examiner.com. Send comments to coupling@globe.com.