A different kind of heartwarmer.
Pudgey3
"Hi, sweetie. What are you up to?"
"Oh, I'm rearranging the boys' drawers," my husband answered.
"Ethan's outgrown several outfits that I need to put into Matthew's drawer.
Cody's doctor's appointment is at one this afternoon. After that we'll
all go to the park, then on to the store."
A typical telephone conversation on a typical weekday.
After I relayed his activities to a co-worker, she exclaimed, "You
oughta rent your husband out!"
"We need to go beat him up," grumbled a male co-worker. "He's making
the rest of us fathers look bad!"
When Stephen made the decision to quit his job to become Mr. Mom
before the birth of his first child, he envisioned bon-bons and soap
operas. I, on the other hand, envisioned in my role as Mrs. Dad, chilled
martinis, ironed newspapers, and slippers handed to me as I walked through
the door at the end of the day.
Stereotypes are hard to kill.
My brother once asked me a puzzling question.
"So, tell me, Jenn. What's it like living the alternative lifestyle?"
Wow. I couldn't wait to tell Stephen that we were living an
alternative lifestyle.
Whatever the heck that is.
I've often suspected that at some point in time a magnetic device was
secretly implanted in my husband. Whenever he unloads the kids in the
reception area of a clinic, women gravitate toward him. Usually the
sympathetic, curious, grandmotherly kind. As if he were some abstract art
form in a museum. One time, still new to the dressing game, Stephen
brought the first two babies (ten months apart) to a clinic wearing
jumpsuits over sleepers.
Observing this fashion faux pas prompted a woman to approach him.
"Do you need help with either one of your babies while you see the
doctor?"
"No, thank you," he responded, smiling tiredly. "I've got it under
control."
One time our friend, Mike, wanted to know why we hadn't been returning
his phone calls for several days.
"I've been busy, Mike," Stephen said.
"Why? What do you do all day?" our friend asked flippantly. "All
you're doing is babysitting the kids."
This from someone, separated from his wife for over two years for
obvious reasons now, and he hadn't seen his own two boys in over a year.
Stephen bristled. Just that morning he had tickle-wrestled three boys
out of bed, made breakfast, put one in time-out for an infraction, cleared
their closet of winter clothes to store in containers destined for the
attic, kissed one owie, blew two noses, trimmed their nails (yes, on both
hands and feet!), and now he was in the middle of his third load of laundry
(yes, loads properly separated!). It wasn't even noon yet.
Stephen counted to ten, then said quietly, "I would like to think that
I'm doing more than just babysitting, Mike. Have you already forgotten
what it's like to have kids?"
Mike blushed and said, "You don't need to get upset, Steve."
"Then think before you open your mouth."
One time I felt the impact of what millions of other office hubbies
must feel when they try to usurp the role of primary caregiver in their
wives' absence. It was such an innocent thing. I was scrambling around
for a pan to cook some oriental noodles for the boys.
"Whatcha doing, Mom?"
"I'm looking for a pan to make you guys some noodles."
"Daddy doesn't use a pan. He puts 'em in the microwave."
What a punch to the ego.
Six years and four kids later, we are still embracing the alternative
lifestyle.
Only now, this time, I can safely define "alternative lifestyle."
It's a method of walking a mile in someone else's shoes. And then
another mile. And then another. Until you both see with the same eyes,
speak with one voice. Only then can you fully appreciate and respect each
other's role in life.
I believe it's in the dictionary.
It's a rare sight, I suppose, to see the father in the home when the
mother brings home the proverbial bacon. But I do more than just work
outside the home. I consider the home my other full-time job. You'll find
us preaching teamwork to the kids while we practice it by doing such chores
as washing dishes and folding laundry together.
I see signs that our lifestyle is working. It's in the wide-eyed
amazement of antique dealers when Stephen, along with two toddlers and a
baby in a backpack, leave their narrow aisles intact. When our boys clean
up toy corners in businesses and doctors' offices when it's time to leave.
Even our meals in restaurants are interrupted by strangers, who compliment
our kids' table manners.
"Mind you, I have 17 grandchildren," one kind lady said. "And none of
'em ever acted this good in public!"
Stephen is proof that the strength of a man lies not in his physical
endurance. There is a factor that sustains him throughout his journey in
this life as a househubby -- he remembers what it's like to be a kid.
Just the other morning, in the pre-dawn hours before work, the static
of the television set beckoned me to the living room where I found the boys
and my husband in one big slumbering pile on the floor, the futon
surrounded by empty popcorn bowls.
Can life possibly get any better than this?
Someone once made the observation that we weren't... well, we just
weren't a cookie cutter family.
We thank God everyday we're not.
-- Jennifer Oliver <OliverJ...@otc.army.mil>
____________________________________________
You may observe their alternative lifestyle just outside Killeen, Texas,
along with three boys, ages 6, 5, and 2, and their four-month-old daughter.
____________________________________________
THE PUDGSICLE :) Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
.
Nettorfret
weren't a cookie cutter family.
We thank God everyday we're not.<<
Liked that
:)
and this could be used in so many other walks of life, this really is the one
thing I try to have my boys understand
a method of walking a mile in someone else's shoes. And then
another mile. And then another. Until you both see with the same eyes,
speak with one voice. Only then can you fully appreciate and respect each
other's role in life.
<B><font color="#333366">Nettie</font color></B>
<I><font color="#666699">I will face my fear,
I will let it pass over me,
And through me,
And when it is gone,
Only I will remain.
Gamma51x
I think every young father should have to spend just one week doing the things
that stay-at-home Moms do. They would think twice before saying "What did you
do all day?"
Gail
Smile.....make people wonder what you're up too!!!
Sackley3
the kids. He would have done an excellent job too
nancy
Jenn ifer
Gosh, threw me for a moment....lol
Great story Pudge!!!!!!
Jenn
Growing old is inevitable
Growing up is optional
KatBears
>that stay-at-home Moms do. They would think twice before saying "What did
you
>do all day?"
I completly agree with this.
<font color="#FF00FF">Kathy</font><font color="#800080">
"Sometimes love is for a moment.
Sometimes love is for a lifetime.
Sometimes a moment is a lifetime"</font>