Daddy is Special

For Father’s Day this year, I helped my son make a card for Daddy. Inside it, I tucked a piece of paper with my son’s answers to the question, “Why is Daddy great?” These were his answers, verbatim, with no coaching from me.

He helps me pick out my clothes.

He plays with me when he’s done with his work.

He helps me clean up my room.

He watches me when we’re playing at the playground.

He kinds of wants to teach me a few swimming lessons.

I like it when we go swim in the pool.

He always lets me play games on his computer.

 

What I love most about his answers is their simplicity. As much as my son appreciates it when Daddy buys him a toy or takes him on a special vacation to Disney World, what sticks out in his mind is when Daddy spends time with him and when Daddy teaches him things.

I worry sometimes that my kids will take the “things” we have for granted: a closet full of clothes; a big, comfortable house; the ability to take trips; a playroom full of toys; a car with a DVD player; even a Mom who stays home with them all day. But the happiest part of their day isn’t diving into the toybox, putting on a cool new shirt, or watching their favorite movie. The squeals of excitement and happiness come when they hear Daddy’s footsteps on the stairs when he comes home from work. What makes them happiest is DADDY playing with them, DADDY spending time with them, DADDY teaching them to do something new. That’s special, because DADDY is special.

 

Happy Father's Day to the most wonderful Daddy I know!

Go Daddy!

No, not the website with all those annoying Superbowl ads. I mean "Go" as in hooray, whoopie, you rock, do the happy dance, and hot damn and hallelujah. And I mean "Daddy" as in wonderful man, wonderful husband, and most of all, wonderful and devoted father of two. In other words, Herb rocks.

[Happy Dance]

He got home this morning after having been away for four days. Now, four days is not a particularly long time. It's not like I was pining for him because I hadn't seen him in months and months. I talked to him on the phone a couple of times a day, we emailed each other often, we even had a Skype videoconference once. So how is it that I missed him so much? Well, for one thing, this is the longest we've been apart since we've been married. Come to think of it, other than that one week in October 2007, this is the longest we've been apart since we met! And for another thing, I had no idea how much I rely on his support dealing with Ryan.

He's fantastic in terms of giving me a break when he comes home from work. He loves taking Ryan and playing with him before dinner, which makes it a lot easier for me to make dinner. And as I've mentioned before, he takes care of tubby time and the last diaper change and bottle before bedtime. So I get a nice long break to clean up after dinner, throw in a load of laundry or two, empty the dishwasher - all those tasks I can't quite manage during the day. Not to mention just being able to sit down without a 23-pound sack of potatoes on my shoulder.

But above and beyond that, just having his emotional support is so much more important than I ever knew. When Ryan is crying for no particular reason and I'm feeling like it must be my fault for not being able to figure it out, Herb reassures me that that's just what babies do. And I know that's true, but somehow hearing it from another adult, one that I love and trust, makes it more believable. He constantly reassures me that I'm a good mother, that I have good instincts, that I take care of Ryan, and that I'm still a good wife to him on top of that. Sometimes I feel like he's getting the shaft a little because I need to spend so much time taking care of Ryan, but he reassures me that he doesn't feel left out.

So this is a public thank-you and acknowledgement of his all-around awesomeness. Go Daddy!

Yes Sir, That's My Baby

My husband has never been shy about showing me off, and I just love that about him! When we were first dating and he introduced me to his various family members, I was much less nervous than I might have been because he was so obviously proud to show me off. The first time he asked me to have lunch with him at work when we got back from our honeymoon, he marched me around the office with delight, cheerfully introducing his "beautiful wife!" to all his co-workers. Even when we're out to dinner seeing no-one but strangers, I feel like he's beaming at passers-by like, "Look at this beautiful woman on my arm!" It's a marvelous feeling to be cherished that way.

When I was pregnant with Ryan, not surprisingly, Herb had a new resurgence of pride. What man doesn't get a primal sense of accomplishment and feel the need to show off the physical evidence of his virility? And again, I was proud to be the trophy. I've never felt as sexy and feminine as I did when I was pregnant, which is pretty impressive considering that I was sick as a dog for 8 months. For a woman like me who has always had a boyish figure, having curves was a nice change, even if one of those curves was a big belly. So everywhere we went, Herb was again beaming at passers-by with a sense of pride.

But now that Ryan is here, we both love bathing in the attention that he gets. I love when we're at the mall and someone walks past the stroller then turns around to look at him and smiles or tells us how cute he is. I love when older ladies come over to coo and ask how old he is or what his name is. I love when fellow moms exclaim at his chubby cheeks or his sweet dimples. But I love most of all watching Herb's reaction to all this attention. He nearly busts his buttons with pride in his little boy. We brought Ryan to church when he was just two weeks old, and as several people were straining for a peek, when we reached our pew near the front, Herb turned and held up the car seat so everyone could see, and the whole congregation burst into applause. I don't think I've ever been more proud than I was at that moment.

And even now, at three months, a bit of the novelty has worn off but the pride is still there. Tonight Herb has invited us to drop in on a barbershop rehearsal he's attending. Partly it's to show off to us what he's doing, but mostly I think it's to show us off the his friends. So I already know what he'll be thinking when we walk in: "Yes sir, that's my baby!"

Fathers and Sons

There's nothing quite so wonderful for a new mom as having a husband who is not only excited and actively involved with the baby (as most are), but who is also an experienced dad. In my case, my husband's experience is 17 years in the past, but like riding a bike, it comes back very quickly.

I'm not sure who adores whom more, whether it's Herb crushing on his son or Ryan crushing on his daddy. But it's obvious there's a mutual admiration society going on there.

Herb and his daughter have a very special relationship, and are probably closer than a lot of fathers and daughters are. After all, she lived with just him for 9 months out of the year for most of her life. And even before her parents were divorced, she got special time with him because her daycare was at his work so he could visit with her at lunch and got extra father-daughter time during his commute to and from work. Even aside from his devotion to her, spending that much time together creates a very close bond. But I think the combination of her growing up and not needing him in the same way that she used to and having a son instead of another daughter is making his bond with Ryan something special in its own way, too.

The relationship between daddies and daughters is, I think, based on a bit of mystery on both sides. A daddy has never been a little girl playing dress-up and having tea parties, or a tween girl dealing with clothes and makeup and hair, or a teenage girl trying to understand boys and the world of dating. And a girl doesn't usually look at her father and think about growing up to be just like him. So there's a natural disconnect there that can never be completely bridged.

Fathers and sons, on the other hand, have a different kind of connection. A daddy looks at his little boy and relives his own childhood: wrestling, rough-housing, playing with trucks and dirt and worms and dead things. He knows what it's like to be a boy because he's been one. He went through the embarassment of a changing voice, being shorter than the girls, growing a caterpillar on his upper lip, the public hazards of hormones, and asking a girl for a date for the first time. He can identify. And a son can look at his dad and get a glimpse of his own future, whether it be athletic prowess or a receding hairline. He can see what he may grow into. Even in babyhood, there's a special bond between a man and the child who will carry on his family name.

So I love watching my husband and son together. I love that they already have a special routine together. Every night at around 9pm, Herb takes Ryan upstairs for "tubby time". Sometimes I join them, but for the most part, I leave them alone for their male bonding time. Ryan grew out of the baby bathtub very quickly, so now he gets to flail around in the big tub, making waves and getting squirted with his many tub toys. He loves when Daddy sprays his chest with the showerhead and lets the water spritz over his face - he sticks out his tongue and tastes it, or if it's too much, scrunches up his face in distaste. Daddy even encourages him to close his eyes and hold his breath while he sprays a little water on his face, to get him ready for dabbling in the pool next summer. But the best part of tubby time is the hair dryer afterwards! When bathtime is over, Herb wraps him in one of his towels (the duck, the elephant, the turtle, the monogram - the choices are almost endless) and brings him to the changing table to diaper him and dress him for bed.

But before he gets dressed, he gets dried all over with the hair dryer. He knows the drill by now so as soon as he hears the dryer he melts into a relaxed puddle. When Herb dries his hair and the warm air blows around his face, he closes his eyes blissfully and makes funny mouth puckers as he waves his chubby arms and legs in ecstasy. Once he's snuggled into a warm sleeper, Herb shuts off the lights, turns on the music, settles into the rocking chair, and gives him his last bottle of the day before tucking him in his crib.

I must admit, I'm a little jealous that I'm not the one tucking him in every night. But I know that I have him all to myself almost every day, and I don't begrudge Herb his special daddy time. After all, he is a very special daddy.