My husband is a great father and husband. I was recently reminded of this when our daughter bounded into our bedroom in the middle of the night during a lightning storm. It was one of Houston’s infamous storms; bright lights from the lightning, booming from the thunder along with the comforting pelt of heavy rain. I was snuggled in bed against my husband. He stepped away to use the bathroom, and there she appeared. She jumped into our bed, headed for the middle spot between us because she couldn’t get back to sleep amidst the lightning and sounds of thunder. I insisted she return to her room – after all, it was just rain. Her father on the other hand, overruled me, insisting she stay. I ruefully accepted. He prioritized her needs for comfort and care. I smiled, drifted to sleep as our daughter snuggled against her dad. This is the kind of father I knew he would be when we agreed to parenthood.
My husband is the ‘fixer’. When there’s an issue with the remote control, a toy, or any device in the house, it’s well understood that his mechanical and aerospace engineering skills will fix whatever is ailing our home. Our son will sit next to him as his dependable assistant, ready to help, handing his dad the tool needed to fix the broken thing. It’s a wonderful dynamic that extends to our kids’ friends who also know to head straight for ‘fixer Dad’ to fix the broken thing.
My husband is ‘fun’. He’s the parent that gets on the ground with the kids in the house to play. He’s the one that goes to the park with them. He tolerates the heat better than I do and has a better temperament for play. The kids love this part of their dad, and it helps to round out our differences. He’s the dad that gets on the ground; I’m the mom that plans the play dates.
My husband is my partner and teammate. We navigate the windy road of our life like traveling up a narrow mountain road. We’re intentional about staying in our respective lanes of greatness, aware of our speed so we can enjoy the ride, and careful to keep our eyes on the road in front of us, looking forward to our future together. This life we’ve built together is founded on intention, love, and a lot of luck.
My favorite song is Luther Vandross’ “House is not a Home”. He regales how “a chair is still a chair even when there’s no one sitting there” but a “house is not home when there’s no one there to hold you tight”.
While there’s always talk about what moms do and the mental load that we legitimately carry, I know for sure that our house is a home because my husband is there to hold us all tight. He’s there’s to support us, care for us, and love us. Our union is not a competition of who does it better. Our house is a home because my husband is love, and I know he will always be there for us.
