My Husband is a Great Father

I tease my husband a lot.  I can't help it.  He never remembers where he puts things, he seems to change clothes 437 times a day, and he's a bit of a full tilt diva about some things. So there is a lot of material for teasing, so much that I sometimes don't even know where to begin. Luckily, Larry is usually good natured about his foibles. Except for the diva things.

But I never tease him about being a dad.

My dad was gone for most of my childhood. He was doing what dads did back then--working. In addition to the military, my father fixed up antique clocks, taught a college class or two, worked weekends at various civilian hospitals, and earned two college degrees.  He still works, approaching 80. It is who he is. But he wasn't around for most of my childhood, and that is just the way it was.  My expectations for my husband weren't very high, as a result.

From the very first day of Zane' s life, his father has been there. For the first three days, he was the only parent there, while I was recovering(Zane and I were the hospital's only double code blue). He changed Zane's first poopy diaper in the NICU.  Once we all came home, Larry carried Zane around, showing him the high points of the house.  They're sometimes inseparable, and I am sometimes a little jealous.

One area of motherhood where I often fall short is patience. I don't like to repeat myself. I get irritated. I raise my voice. I've gotten better, but I am sure that I will be working on patience for the rest of my life.

Larry is patient with our son. He takes the time to explain things like rules; where my usual answer is "Because I said so."  He will let Zane sound out the words in a book, no matter how long it takes, where I usually just say the word to move the story along. I could go on, but I'm starting to get a complex.

My husband is there.  He is a vital part of my son's life. He is not hiding in the garage, or parked in front of the computer. He is coaching soccer. He is kissing boo boos. He is listening to the same song over 40 times in a row.

He is being a dad. I love him for that.

Happy Father's Day!

Ever since my son was an itty-bitty, his father has been reading to him about heroes and their adventures. Larry sat next to Zane's bed, with a book opened, and a tiny book light. From downstairs, I could hear his deep voice, ebbing and flowing with the words to The Hobbit, until Zane fell asleep.

Then came the day that Zane began responding to Larry while he read, asking questions about Gandalf and Bilbo and Smaug.

And night after night, as I listened to them sharing their special time together, my thoughts turned to what makes a hero, and what makes a dad.

Heroes don't always have to wear tights, or carry a gun, or run into burning buildings.

Sometimes, a hero can be a man who spent the night with his newborn in the NICU because his wife was unable to leave ICU.

A hero can sometimes be a man who stops what he is doing, no matter how important it might be, to read a book to his son.

A man who cares enough about his child to show him how to type his name on the computer, even if that child accidentally deletes several hours of work, can be a hero.

A hero can be the man who listens to his child ask the same question over and over, and answers that question calmly, over and over.

A hero can be a man who goes outside with his son to ride a bike, even though his back is hurting from working all day.

A hero could be a man who stays up all night putting together a train table so Santa can get all the credit.

A hero can be the man who takes his boy to the pool to swim, even though he knows he's going to get very sunburned(even with sunscreen!).

A hero can be a man who takes the time to pronounce words very carefully, so that his child can learn them.

To Zane, his father is his hero. That is how it should be.

Happy Father's Day to the man I love, who is also my hero.