Please, don’t call
My husband G. Grod and I have pretty much given up on making or receiving phone calls while we’re in our toddler Drake’s presence or earshot. Drake doesn’t appreciate that our attention goes elsewhere, but what really pisses him off is that we’re using the phone, which is obviously HIS toy that we cruel parents never let him use. Screaming, tantrums and general misery ensues, for all involved.
On one hand, this makes sense. If I had a friend over, I wouldn’t take/make a call without excusing myself. Drake understands many things, but it’s not like we can say, “Oh, please excuse me for a minute.” When we’re there, we’re supposed to be on call for him and him alone.
Oh the other hand, this is one of the many tiny but exhausting things about parenthood that can be so wearing. Before having a child, I steeled myself for lifestyle changes like not going to movies or out to dinner. Those changes haven’t been a big deal. It’s things like not being able to use the phone or the toilet that get to me, things that I naively used to think were inalienable rights.