I just feel lucky, you know?
When Hubby and I were dating we talked about kids, but I doubt we had a conversation with any more specificity than the number we one day hoped to have. No mundane talks on bedtimes or discipline; none of the nuts and bolts of raising children.
I couldn’t truly anticipate the kind of father he would be. I’d seen his work ethic so I knew he’d provide for them, I’d lived with his calm demeanor so I knew he’d be even-keeled with them, I knew he loved the Lord so I knew Jesus would be in our home, but I suppose any more than that I just kind of figuratively closed my eyes and hoped for the best.
And so to watch my husband sit on Baby Chickadee’s bed in the ER and play stickers with her (concussions are the pits!), sit with my him at each of G’s and Little Missy’s ball games, get roped by him into family game nights around the dining table, sit around the campfire while we all roast hot dogs, lie with a child in between us who’s suffered a nightmare and commenced to sleep with his or her feet alternatingly shoved into his belly and then mine is a happy life. A simple, happy life.
I just feel lucky, you know? Lucky to watch the father quietly and confidently emerge from the man I swooned over as a college student.
Happy Father’s Day, Hubby. I’m so glad you’re the father of my babies.
Erin Fox is a busy wife and mother of three. She is a weekly columnist for the Times- Gazette.