He's the Only Hero They Need

I am at the gym and ESPN is on the television in front of me. I see two commentators discussing last night's basketball game and the tussle between two highly-paid and famous players. I see video footage of one of the men taunting the other. He laughs about what he did and steps to the man who tells him to admit to it. He is not a hero.

*     *     *

I am away from the Internet all weekend long, and when I return it is to pictures everywhere of a young punk. Ugly, goofy, red-rimmed eyes from a night of drinking and bad choices. Because of his sports status and white privilege and because both of his parents are defending what he did, he takes no ownership of the horrible things he did to a young woman. Despite his Olympic dreams, he is not a hero.

*     *     *

I am watching the news as I make dinner. Donald Trump is campaigning again. He is talking about building walls and keeping people out and saying misogynistic things. My boys listen to every word. They know he is "not being nice." They know he is no hero. 

*     *     *

There is another shooting on the news. The worst mass casualty since 9/11. The shooter claimed allegiance to an organization which believes it's doing good in the world. He claimed he killed those people because what they were doing is wrong. He is not judge and jury. He is no hero.   

*     *     *

The world needs heroes. My sons need heroes. They need to know that just because someone plays sports and makes millions of dollars, he is not automatically a hero. 

They need to know that just because you pledge allegiance to a religion or movement or political party, it does not give you a free pass to use those beliefs as a reason to hurt people. 

They need to see men acting responsibly and owning up to their mistakes. They need to see men who do the right thing, even when it's hard or hurts their pride. 

They need to know more men like their dad. 

They need to know about how polite he was when we first met. How he treated me like a woman he respected rather than rushing to get "a piece of action." They need to know how he supported and encouraged me in my career, on the good days and the bad. They need to know how he respected my friends and felt protective of me when those friends were being less than friends to me. 

They need to know how hard he worked in school, even though he didn't like it and even when it was hard for him. They need to know that it took him a while to find his passion in life; but once he did, he didn't let anything stand in his way. Not the difficulty, not someone telling him he could never do it, not a cross-country move. 

They need to know that he found a life partner who respected him as much as he respected her. How he considered her feelings in everything he chose, everything he did, everything he said and didn't say. 

They need to know how he planned a future for his family. They need to know about how he unselfishly saved money for us - for them - so that we could have a comfortable life. He didn't squander away his savings on frivolous things. He planned for his family to have a future despite what he may have wanted in the present. 

They need to know how equal of a partner and parent he was. How, when his wife was bedridden for three months, he cooked and cleaned and shopped and cared for her, all while working full-time. How he lovingly bathed his newborn babies and warmed bottles in the middle of the night and changed even the poopy diapers. 

They have seen the way he cares for his home and his yard, mowing and preening and planting and watering even after a long day at work when all he wants to do is recline in his chair. They have spotted him in the crowd at their ball games, in his work clothes, there to cheer them on whether they get the hit or not. 

They have heard him apologize and admit that he lost his temper. They have seen him back up those words by actions, by fixing what needed to be fixed. They have seen him own up to his mistakes and make a change for the better. 

They have seen the way he treats his wife. Caring about the things she cares about, knowing what she likes and doesn't like. Buying her nice things, yes, but also treating her with respect. Being an equal partner in raising them. Being an equal partner caring for their home - cooking, cleaning, and parenting. 

They have seen the way he treats his nearly 87-year-old mother. Going to her house and doing tasks for her, taking her to brunch on Sundays, offering her rides when the weather is dicey. Calling her on her birthday. Thanking her for being his mother. 

They have seen the way he treats his five sisters. With brotherly love and respect. He cares about them, he listens to them, and values his time with them. They have seen the way he honors and respects women. The way he talks to them and the way he loves them. 

They need to know the way he treats his patients with kindness, care, and humor. The way he puts them at ease when they are experiencing something painful and scary. They need to know the way he treats his employees, with fairness, honesty, and respect. They need to see what others see: that he is a good man. 

They need to know that he is grieving the loss of his own father and his son. They need to know that men cry and care and hurt and feel and deal with their grief in very real ways, too. They need to know that he has been strong for his family even when he hasn't wanted to be. 

Every boy needs a hero. There are a lot of them in this world. And yes, he could be a pro-athlete, a musician, a politician, an astronaut, a police officer, a religious leader, a neighbor, or a teacher. 

But he could also be very simply someone they call "Dad."

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One of these days I'm going to write a long letter

There's a Neil Young song called "One of These Days" from his incredible album, Harvest Moon. It goes:

"One of these days,
I'm gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
One of these days,
one of these days,
one of these days,
And it won't be long, it won't be long."

Hubby was inspired to write me a letter after listening to that song one day while we were dating. I loved getting letters from him. I used to love getting letters from anyone. I didn't realize I had saved them all until I was searching for the first love letter Hubby wrote to me. 

I found a shoebox filled to the brim with letters from my college days. Letters from my mom, my best friend, and boys. Boys that I had long forgotten about dating, much less receiving letters from. 

It really made me miss that experience, you know? The experience of the surprise letter, seeing my name on the envelope, eagerly reading the words that the sender had written, and feeling all the feels that came along with them. We don't do this anymore. We don't write words and send them off and wait to hear how the receiver feels about them (ooohhh, wait a minute - isn't that what Bloggers do?). 

But seriously, now we text, we Facebook, we Tweet, we Instagram, and Snapchat, and do a whole bunch of other social media things that I don't even know about. Will my boys even know what it's like to hold a letter in their hands? 

I'm sharing my thoughts about letters - in particular love letters - over at Her View From Home. Head on over and let me know your thoughts about this "lost art."

Read Is Writing Love Letters a Lost Art?  on Her View From Home. Tell me when you last sent a letter via snail mail. If you never have, don't worry; I share some tips on getting started on one. 

Marriage is Like Football: You Can't Cross the Goal Line if You Keep Fumbling the Ball

Around this time of year is the anniversary of my first date with Hubby 15 years ago. Sometimes we can't believe we've made it this far. We've actually known each other since we were in second grade. We attended the same huge Catholic elementary school together. Despite having been in the same class of 35 kids together three times, our paths rarely crossed.

He went to an all-boys high school, and I went to an all-girls high school, and again, our paths rarely crossed. He went to all the parties (had some of the parties) and I stayed home . . .a lot. When I did see him out and about, he always greeted me with a huge smile and a "Nice to see you!" Hubby is just a really nice guy.

It wasn't until much later in our twenties that we met up again and, well, here we are. But the unbelievable part is that we even made it this far because of all the fumbles that were made along the way, mostly by me. After all, a guy can't cross the goal line if one of his players keeps fumbling the ball.

Fumble #1: When he finally called me to talk, I called him a loser. He called me on a Friday night, so I called him a loser for not having anything better to do.

Touchdown: I said yes when he asked me out.

Fumble #2: While on our first date, I told one of his female friends that we were not on a date. In fact, I kept insisting we were not on a date. She kept insisting we were. I still didn't think it was a real date.

Touchdown: I accepted a second date, and I picked him up wearing really short shorts and a tight t-shirt, I might add. Not a date, my former skinny ass.

Fumble #3: While watching our state's football team at a bar with all of Hubby's friends, one said something to me about Hubby being my boyfriend. Now, you have to understand how much I hate when girls go out on one or two dates with a guy and start calling him her boyfriend right away. That gives us all a bad name. So I said simply, "He's not my boyfriend," because I didn't want Hubby to think I was a psycho.

Yeah, that backfired.

Hubby still has his Hanes in a bunch over that. Every time he tells the story, and he does a lot, the emphasis will get bigger. It's grown from, "He's NOT my boyfriend!" to "HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!"

Touchdown: I decided about a week later that he really was my boyfriend.

Fumble #4: (This one was Hubby's.) We had traveled to Kansas City for the weekend right before Christmas. We were having such a wonderful time, the mood was right at dinner, and I felt he was on the verge of proclaiming his love so I leaned across the table and I told him I loved him. He said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa . . .I wasn't thinking that!" Screeeeeech. Crap.

Touchdown: He got up in the morning and warmed the shower up for me. It really is the little things that give away how they feel.

Fumble #5: A couple months later we were sitting in the airport waiting for our flight to Chicago. I was taking him for his birthday. We were talking about this and that, and he asked me who my best friend was. I started rattling off some girls from college and asked who his was. He said, "Well, you, of course." Awww . . .

Touchdown: I took him to Chicago for his birthday. Duh. We had an awesome time!

Fumble #6: I almost missed my proposal. It was New Year's Eve 1999. We went out and had a great time. We watched fireworks downtown, met some random people (whom Hubby told we would be married someday and I didn't get it), and spent time with my family. The whole time, I am drinking bottle after bottle of wine . . .and I was feeling fine. At one point I left the party to go somewhere with my sister-in-law, and Hubby was freaking out! Little did I know, he had a plan. A plan that was to happen at the stroke of midnight on the New Millennium. He carted me off back to my apartment a few minutes before, and as the fireworks went off on t.v., he got down on one knee and proposed.

Touchdown: I said yes.

Fumble #7: A cake debacle. I insisted on having a certain baker make our cake. I had seen his cakes at the bridal shows and loved them. We were to meet with him one night after work to discuss our wedding cake. Hubby was stressed about having to take his Boards and just wanted me to decide, but I insisted he come with me. The baker, who was very flamboyant, proceeded to talk to us for two hours about other people's weddings. He drew one picture of our cake the whole time, to which we agreed. Hubby left fuming over the study time he wouldn't get back.

But here's the kicker: when the cake arrived at our wedding, it wasn't even the one we had ordered! Twelve years later, Hubby is still bitter about that.

Touchdown: The cake was lovely and delicious, and our wedding was so beautiful and fun that it didn't ruin our day at all.

So, long story short, despite some fumbles along the way, here we are fifteen years later. Neither our relationship nor our marriage are perfect, and we've obviously had our challenges. We've had low points and high points and more low points, but our current thinking is that if we can keep working toward the goal line together, even if we fumble the ball along the way, we'll get there.

Here's to many more touchdowns along the way.


*This post was originally published in August 2013. 

Did you and your spouse have any SNAFUS along your relationship road?

My Hubby Even Thinks I'm a Super Cool Lady Writer

I've long considered myself extremely lucky to have such a helpful husband. He's always been willing to cook, wash dishes, and vacuum floors among other household tasks. From the get-go, he was a loving and involved father - he had to be with twins right out of the gate.

He's funny and he's sweet. When I cut myself down, he calls me on it. He might not understand all of my quirks - which are MANY - but he puts up with them. Which is all I really ask anyway.

Just this past weekend, I was kind of going on a little OCD rant about the way the babysitter folded the towels. He said, "Do you hear yourself right now?"

Okay, yes, yes, I may have been over-reacting just a tad.

Later, when we went out to dinner for his birthday and I refused the bread the waitress offered, he said, "Oh, because of your raging diabetes?" Which is of course a nod to the fact that I KNOW I have or will get diabetes because many of my relatives have it and I had gestational diabetes twice.

He never quite makes fun of me outright; it's more of a poking little jab to agree with whatever ridiculous statement I've made.

One thing he's always been supportive about is my writing. From when I started writing about Joey on Caring Bridge to now on the blog, he always has kind or constructive words to say. From telling me he enjoyed a post I wrote about one of the boys or admitting he had to stop reading one about Joey that choked him up or responding, "Of course they do," when I tell him Huffington Post wants to publish one of my latest blogs, I know he's proud I'm finding success at something that I like (even though he does make fun of my pet articles in Women's Edition).

So when I mentioned that "one of my blogger friends," Jen of People I Want to Punch in the Throat, was compiling an anthology of stories about husbands, he didn't really say I couldn't write about him. And when I did write something, he even smiled a few times while reading it.

But THEN, when I got the e-mail from Jen saying that she'd accepted my essay into her new book (squeeee!) and that I was officially a "Super Cool Lady Writer," he didn't make fun of me AT ALL!

See, I get to make fun of HIM a little in this book.

Many of you will remember the first installment of this series, I Just Want to Be Alone. It is super funny and written by some "kick-ass lady bloggers."

This second installment is called I Just Want to Be Alone, and here is what it's about:

"Don't get us wrong, we love the men in our lives – we do (most of the time). It's just that sometimes we would like them to go away. Not forever or anything like that. Just for an hour … or a day … or a weekend. We want some time to ourselves to read a good book or take a walk or do anything other than try to make a dent in the never ending mound of dirty clothes that keeps piling up on the floor on his side of the bed. We just want to be alone. All alone. Is that too much to ask?

I Just Want to Be Alone is a collection of humorous essays from 37 of the most Super Cool Lady Writers you'll find on the web. Including: People I Want to Punch in the Throat, Baby Sideburns, A.K. Turner, My Husband Ate All My Ice Cream, and Bad Parenting Moments.

Read hilarious essays like:

Open Letter To My Son (Or: Your Mother’s Top 10 List of Ways Not to Be a Douchebag Husband)

Exploding With Love, Literally

Romance is Overrated

Life With the Thin Guy

Dear Magnolia, Should I Marry This Man?"

I am so excited to be a part of my second anthology, and one that includes amazing bloggers like these:

People I Want to Punch in the Throat

Moms Who Drink and Swear

Baby Sideburns

A.K. Turner

My Husband Ate All My Ice Cream

Bad Parenting Moments

The Underachiever's Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess

The Ugly Volvo

Let Me Start By Saying

Motherhood, WTF?

Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

Frugalista Blog

Toulouse and Tonic

Nicole Leigh Shaw

Somewhat Sane Mom

MyLifeSuckers

The Mom of the Year

Hollow Tree Ventures

When Crazy Meets Exhaustion

Funny Is Family

Abby Has Issues

Kissing the Frog

Nurse Mommy Laughs

Our Small Moments

I'm Still Learning

The Fordeville Diaries

You're My Favorite Today

Ironic Mom

Life on Peanut Layne

Loripalooza

I Love Them The Most When They're Sleeping

From Meredith to Mommy

The Nomad Mom Diary 

649.133: Girls, the Care and Raising Of

Lisa Newlin – Seriously?

Keeper of the Fruit Loops

Magnolia Ripkin

That is far too much awesomeness for one book!! But that's not even the best part. The best part is that, although its official release is not until March 22, you can pre-order I Just Want to Be Alone TODAY to ensure that you get your copy right away! Just click on that little link or the Amazon link at the top of the page.

This is going to be so fun - because, hey, we all love our men. And what better way to show our love than poking a little fun at them?

Order your copy - today. And while you're waiting, have you read the first book yet? On the off chance you haven't, order your copy of I Just Want to Pee Alone and get in the mood for more hilariousness come March 22nd.

I can't wait!

Oh, and for the record, Hubby, that's Ms. Super Cool Lady Writer to you!
 

A Frog Among the Toads

I have been having so much fun the past week featuring Father's Day guest posts from my readers!  I truly believe that everyone has a story to share, and each is important and touching in its own way.  A huge thank you to all of my guest writers, especially those of you who stepped out of your comfort zones to share your stories.  If you haven't read them, take some time to scroll back.

That said, I haven't forgotten about my own amazing husband, the father to my children.  So now it's time to share my story...

parachutingfish.com

I never gave much thought to the kind of father I wanted my future husband to be.  I knew I wanted a tall, dark, handsome, romantic man to be my husband.  I assumed that a guy like that would also be a kick-ass dad.

Then, one summer night, in the midst of partying with my friend, D, I ran into a guy who was the complete opposite of all that.

He was not so tall, had blond, thinning hair, was comically adorable, and he just so happened to be someone I had known since I was eight years old.

Hubby had attended the same Catholic grade school as me.  With 120 kids in each grade, however, we didn't cross paths very often.  And although we hung out in totally different social circles in high school (he with the cool party crowd, me in the shy, non-party crowd), he always spoke to me.  And he was always nice.

And he was a gentleman!  Most of the toads guys I dated in my twenties were, to be frank, just trying to get into my pants.  And that was so not my style (nothing against you gals who enjoyed your sexuality - more power to you, sistas, as long as you were safe about it).  But this guy didn't even try to kiss me for a long time (I won't say how long and embarrass him, but it was a good month and a half after our first date).

So as time went on, I fell for him more and more, especially after I saw the way he interacted with his twenty nieces and nephews at the time.  They adored him, and I came to as well.  This darling little frog became my handsome prince.

Needless to say, we got married, and here we are just having celebrated our eleventh anniversary last week.

Might I mention here that hardly anything about the past eleven years has been particularly easy?  But I think you know that; after all, that's why many of you come here to read.

First there was the bit about the infertility.  Hubby and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on how to proceed with that, but he knew having my own baby was desperately important to me, so he did what I wanted to do to make that happen.

And having twins gave him the first opportunity to show me just what an amazing dad and husband he is.  He had to be involved right away.  He kind of had no choice.  Since Slim was born with a cleft lip and palate and couldn't nurse, Hubby pretty much took over his care and feeding when he was home.  We would alternate cuddling and bathing the twins, and Hubby even jumped right in with all the routines I insisted were so important like tummy time and board book time and silly songs time.

Even after we moved halfway across the country to New York, and he would be gone for days at a time, on - call at hospitals in three different boroughs, he would still jump into his daddy role as soon as he was home. 

Is that a real man or what?!?  I know
you're jealous.

After Baby Knox was born, Hubby pretty much took over the care of both twins.  Every night he would give them baths while I nursed the baby.  It absolutely floors me when women tell me that their husbands have never given their children a bath.  Hubby still to this day helps the boys with their baths and showers every night.

When Joey was sick, Hubby was on his computer each night desperately trying to find some morsel of hope, some place we could take him for a miracle treatment, even though he knew none would be found.

I will never ever forget the moment Joey died, and Hubby said over and over to me, "I'm so sorry," because he knew how much I adored that child and how incredibly broken my heart was.

Hubby and Joey

And I will never forget how scared I was to tell him that I was pregnant after Joey died because I thought he would be mad, but he just said, "Huh," as if I had told him it was raining outside when no rain was predicted, and I let out a sigh of relief.

I don't think he wanted as many children as we have, but he knew I wanted them, and he has loved and cared for each of them with all his heart.

His favorite part of the day is when they all run up to him when he comes home from work.  A parade of little boys shouting, "Daaaadeeeee!!!!"  Hugs and a tumble of words as they all try to tell him about their day.

I know he secretly loves it when they fight over who gets to sit next to him at dinner.

And the twinkle in his eyes when one of them calls him his best friend...priceless.

Hubby and Knox on the fishing boat.

I had asked him to write a Father's Day guest post for me, but he hesitated, using his poor writing skills as an excuse.  Later he admitted to me that lately he hasn't felt like he's been doing too great of a job at the dad thing.

Oh, Sweetie, we all feel like that sometimes!

But I would have to say, hands down, Hubby is one of the best dads I know.  And I'm not just saying that because he buys me pretty things and treats me like a queen (believe me, that totally helps - you know "if mama ain't happy" and all that).

We make no secret about the fact that our marriage takes a hit every time we have another baby.  It's a stressful time for both of us, and he has to share me with some other little dude who also likes my breasts.

Our marriage took a huge hit when Joey was sick, a scary hit.  People thought we were so strong and together, but the reality is that we barely talked to each other because neither of us wanted to talk at all.

And this blog...this blog hits us, too, because I will send my thoughts out to cyberspace, but not tell Hubby about them.

Sometimes I wonder why he loves me the way he does, why he treats me like a queen.

I will say to him, "Do you know I love you?'  And he will always answer, "You do?" like this is news to him.

The only news is what I want to shout from every headline, "My Hubby is an amazing dad and husband!"

He puts up with my secretive, emotional crap.

He works harder than he really wants to just to give our boys wonderful experiences and childhood memories.

He never complains about his co-parenting duties - he just does them.

He sees each of our sons as individuals and treats them as such.

He is funny and takes a creative approach to parenting, especially when I am frustrated and out of ideas.

He speaks eloquently, feels deeply, loves unconditionally.

I told him on our anniversary that I was in this for the long-haul.  It's been a long-ass haul already, and I know there are many more tough times in our future; but it's him I want to haul-ass with.  It's him that makes me a better person, who challenges me to see the good in myself and our boys when my vision becomes clouded.  It's him who doesn't play into any one's bullshit, who calls them on it, in fact.

It's him. My Prince.

He's the frog that I kissed, that unexpected little frog among the toads who came out of nowhere and showed me just what an amazing man, husband, father he really is.

You know I love you, Sweetie...I know you do.