I don't guess there is any sane woman out there who doesn't wonder just how she'd survive if, God forbid, something happened to her husband, the father of her (many) children. In my case with six sons I think, "God, if you are going to take one of us home, take me. These boys need their daddy!" (I mean, I am not discounting that these boys need a momma too...I mean, who'd trim their toenails or suck their snot out for pete's sake? :) But, about the age of three boys drift away from everything needs to be momma...to life is better with daddy! And, I have always loved this though I feel a bit sorry for the daddy of six sons who never gets free time. And my man...my baby daddy...rises to the occasion. He loves to be loved by these little men. He is, after all, the one who teaches them how to kiss and hug tight so he can begin unapologetically begging them for lovin'! SO he gets what he deserves when a certain five year old lumbers onto his lap and covers him with smooches. And then a four year old climbs on top to add to the pile. And if a certain twelve year old (who weighs a ton BTW) is nearby, he joins in. That 12 year old is a lap kitten...no one has told him he is more like a horse...least of all his daddy who would never turn him away. These boys love their daddy.
He is a good daddy. A daddy who loves them as much as I do. And for just that fact alone I don't know what I'd do without him. I mean, there is this precious thing that exists between a parent and a child. It cannot be replicated. Knowing he and I are always on the same page when it comes to how we love them makes life much easier. After all, as a man and a woman we are so seldom on the same page about anything...at least at the outset! :) I will never forget how the evening after Grant was born and the hospital room cleared out and there we were...the three of us. Together. Alone. For the first time. Ever. Keith and I cried our eyes out. Not out of love. Not out of joy. Nope. It was FEAR. YES. F.E.A.R! What in the world were we doing? We had not a clue. We loved that little baby but the events of the preceding labor were nothing short of life-altering. Not the pretty picture of giving birth I had imagined. Nothing about my body felt beautiful or "life-giving!" More like a train had run right up through...oh, never mind. You get the idea. The minute that life hit this world...our lives were changed. Shew. I am glad that man stood there with me and cried. I needed to know he was as scared as I was! The hormones settled down. A little rest settled on our weary bones and we adjusted. I never wanted to do that again. And I did it five more times. God is so funny that way! And that man of mine has stood there and laughed and cried and snuggled slimy babies the whole way.
I can write a book of the precious things he has done with our boys or the way he teaches them and nurtures them. Mostly, I am just so thankful he is here. Here to protect and provide and love us. If I had to be married to me...especially through six pregnancies and births...I'd have run. That stuff about the weaker sex...that's me. Totally. I am a hormonal, unpredictable, emotional mess. And he stays. And he loves me. Now he has teenagers who add even more of that to the mix...and he stays. And loves them. Thanks Sugar! You are my man! ~M.