I met the hubby when I was 15. He was 18. Oh, it was scandalous.
I had no idea then that he would be the amazing man, loving father and patient husband that he is today (let’s be honest, he was cute, he was funny, he was a senior and that was reason enough to date him). He’s probably going to be surprised to read this since I’ve been a total nitpicker lately.
Two kids has put much more of a strain on our marriage than one did. We were married eight years when Peanut entered our lives and I am thankful for every last one of those child-free years we spent together. We traveled. We went out. We took risks. We knew each other inside and out so that when those first sleep-deprived days descended and we both were acting like crazed new parent lunatics, we could slough it off knowing that the “real” person was underneath the hormones, the spit up and the puffy eyes.
Pumpkin’s arrival has been a whole different ball of wax. Nothing and everything changed. Peanut’s routines are still Peanut’s routines, we simply have a whole other human being to care for on top of it. I’ve been having a harder time adjusting to that than anyone else in the house and, unfortunately, the hubby gets the brunt of my frustration whether he deserves it at that moment or not.
Although this time around has been harder and more challenging, I wouldn’t trade a day of it (okay, maybe I’d trade my trip to the ER or Pumpkin’s milk allergy, but two days out of a couple of hundred isn’t bad). The hubby is an involved dad. He’s not afraid to take on the stinky diapers, the nighttime sleep training, the solo trips to Florida with a newly potty trained toddler. He’s in charge of bedtime every night. He’s even taken two kids to the grocery store while I was getting a massage. I don’t think that will ever happen again, but he did it. Voluntarily. Without complaint.
He’s a partner, not a babysitter. He’s involved in parenting decisions, reading as much parenting lit as I do, offering suggestions, trying techniques, providing perspective when I can’t see the forest for the trees. His priority each and every day is my and the boy’s happiness. He’s a patient, patient man and much more than I deserve.
I feel a lot of pressure to raise good men. Men who respect women. Men who make good choices. Men who contribute. Men who will make worthy partners in the future. Then I take a look at the man they see most often and relax. I could not have asked for a better man to be a role model for my boys.
For all this and much, much more, I am so thankful for him on this Father’s Day.
Happy Father’s Day, honey.