I pick on my husband in this blog a lot, but I should explain that he gives it right back, just not in writing and on the web. If you listened to our conversations throughout the day, you’d understand why I have to get it out in my own unique way. We can’t have a normal conversation without him saying something inappropriate or making fun of me every 30 seconds. Okay, so that’s clear, he deserves getting picked on, but this week I can’t pick on him. It would be sacrilege on Father’s Day. Honestly though, he is the best dad I’ve ever seen.
He is a dad that is always there. After I had my son, I wanted one of us with him at all times. Remember, I’m a helicopter parent. My husband stepped up to ease my insecurities, taking our son with him everywhere, instead of off to daycare. I’m sure my son’s first memories will be of his time with Daddy: an oatmeal creme pie breakfast and cartoons, making up songs with little baby guitars, or cruising in a big truck as they check cows and sheep. I’m sure it was stressful trying to plan farm chores around a baby’s schedule, but I know my husband loved it because I got numerous texts, picture messages, and stories about their eventful days.
My husband is also an amazing dad because he’s always excited to see our son when he comes home, if he’s been gone all day or just five minutes. When I was pregnant with our son, I watched an episode of Oprah with Toni Morrison as the guest. She challenged viewers to always look at their children with joy when entering the room, not critically to see what their doing, wearing, or saying. I thought this was the best parenting advice I’d ever heard, and I always make sure I follow this, but my husband never saw that episode, yet he already knew that and does it without a doubt better than I do. If he needs something quickly from the house, he sneaks in and out, just so he doesn’t break his little boy’s heart. He’s so excited to see Aiden when he comes in, Aiden gets irritated with hugs and scruffy kisses and says, “Dat’s enuff, Daddy. Dat’s enuff.” He also takes every chance to rile Aiden up before he goes as well, but I won’t complain. They have lots of fun.
They have so much fun because my husband is pretty close to being a kid himself. I worry a lot that Aiden is missing out on social skills because he’s home with me, but I shouldn’t worry much because there’s another three-year-old around here with just a snap of a finger. They play blocks, destroy their creations, ride trikes and bikes, and talk like two little kids. They both have the same little boy mentality of “Try it and worry later” or “Try it and Mommy will kiss my boo-boo.” That’s why Aiden has so many bumps and bruises and my husband would never go without insurance, but they’re happy boys.
So Happy Father’s Day to the amazing, incredible, and goofball John Stroupe. Enjoy this last one with one boy and two pay checks. Next year you’ll probably just get a homemade card and an oatmeal creme pie if Aiden shares his birthday money with me.