When you’re a mom who nurses her baby to sleep, and you skillfully ease him from your arms and onto the bed without rousing that baby, you MIGHT feel like MacGyver.
And if that baby stirs when you attempt to get up to leave and you’re able to position a pillow in your place to the baby’s satisfaction, yea, it’s just further confirmation that you COULD be MacGyver.
When you’ve snuck out of that bed often enough that you know you’re better off crab walking to the bottom of it instead of rolling off its side, because the mattress will squeak twice instead of five times, you WILL definitely feel like MacGyver.
When you successfully avoid the three creaky spots on the floor between the bed and the door, ease that door shut without a single hinge moan, then hug the hallway on the right to avoid that center creak, you’ll KNOW you’re MacGyver.
When you sacrifice the pain in your knees that still lingers from your pregnancy to skip that first step that would otherwise protest under your weight, and then tip toe down the rest of the stairs, you might whisper to yourself, “Nice going… MacGyver.”
Then your husband is likely to give you a knowing wink as you slip, still quietly out of habit, next to him on the couch. He’ll feel pretty lucky because, first, bedtime is your mission and you’ve gotten pretty good at it by now and, second, he married the chick version of MacGyver.