The 'Dada' Echo: A Morning Reality Check
For Molly Devane, the day begins with a two-word soundtrack from her two-year-old daughter, Maeve: "Dada. Dada." This simple declaration is a constant reminder of her place in the toddler's hierarchy of affection. On this particular morning, her husband, Hall, was already working, leaving Molly to face the cheerful rejection solo. Hall, a farmer at heart trapped in a web marketer's body, naturally wakes at 5 a.m., a full two hours before Molly. This early start gives him a crucial head start in the daily race for their daughter's heart.
The Unseen Work of the 'Boring' Parent
Molly categorizes people into two groups: Tired People and Non-Tired People. She firmly places herself in the former camp. This inherent tiredness, coupled with her recent layoff, has cemented her role as the primary caregiver and, in her view, the "boring one." While Hall heads to his salaried job, Molly performs her one-woman show: "Stay-At-Home Mom, featuring: Mom!" Her day is a whirlwind of collecting toddler detritus, cleaning up spills, bulk-buying diapers, and conducting a never-ending orchestra of dishes.
She insists she is fun. Their days are filled with playground visits, baking adventures, and reading the same book thirty times. Yet, the moment Hall reappears, Maeve flees Molly's lap for the throne of her father's arms. This parental preference is a sting that society never prepared her for. A late-night conversation with a mom friend, gently encouraged by a margarita, offers a theory: because Molly is a constant presence, she is seen as an extension of Maeve herself—a buoy of safety and security, and thus, boring.
Finding Hope in the Night and a New Job
Molly's quest for a solution leads her through humorous, desperate considerations. She could wake up earlier, but she's a Tired Person. She could play hard to get, but she refuses to treat her daughter like an emotionally unavailable man-boy. She could have another baby to re-hook Maeve on breast milk, but weaning a college student seemed impractical.
Her last hope comes in the form of a recent job offer. She prays that her Irish exit from full-time motherhood will make her more exotic in her daughter's eyes. She imagines Maeve asking the nanny, "Where'd she go? Life of the party, my mom." She knows the evenings will likely stay the same, with Hall remaining the preferred reader and rocker.
But then, as she closes her eyes at the end of another long day, a cry echoes from Maeve's room. "Mama," she cries. "Mama, rock." It's the only time she is the unequivocal favorite. In that dark room, Molly rocks her daughter to sleep, her face buried in Maeve's blond, buttery curls. In that moment, she is satisfied to be the one she needed. Her baby. Daddy's baby. Pepper's (the dog's) baby. She finds a bittersweet peace, grateful her child has someone to love so deeply, even if it's not always her.
