As I drifted off the sleep at the end of watching the Star Trek DVD (in English; it’s now playing in French), I heard one of the boys cough in the other room. Wendy woke up and asked which one it was. I wasn’t sure, but reassured her that he’d not been coughing long. Then he coughed again and I was pretty sure it was Elijah. We determined he’d not had any meds, and I went downstairs to get him some.
As I walked downstairs, I enjoyed the idea that despite the obvious, desirable, and enjoyable similarities that we share as members of a family, each of my children is so unique that I can recognize each one’s cough in the night. Isn’t that cool! And I’m tuned in enough as father to be able to tell the difference.
And with that thought, I was awake and needing a keyboard, so now I’m not sleeping, I’m blogging, with the 2nd run of Star Trek in the background.
Beyond coughing, of course, each has particular talents and beauty: his/her own light. In day to day life, sometimes I am conscious only of the faults: the shoes and coat in the floor, the texting during mid-conversation, the door left wide open … again. It’s good to have moments of recognizing the stunning beauty and potential and pleasures of each child: the smiles, the unwaivering affection of little ones, the forgiveness of the less little ones toward an oft-impatient papa, the piano music, the singing, the pleasure they take in looking good, their excitements, their successes, their diligence in study, their fun in diversions of games and video, their favorite clothes, their favorite books (even if that’s *sigh* Edward the vampire), their unique laughter, their insightful and tender prayers.
I like being a dad. I really like it.
It reminds me of a comment Wendy made soon after Donella was born. Wendy had always planned to stay home with the kids, assuming the option, of course. We worked hard during our first year of marriage to establish the financial picture that would provide that option. As Wendy resigned her position at her dream job at Primary Children’s Medical Center, she obviously felt some sadness and anxst at the unknown. Would she ever be able to be a nurse again? Would she miss it too much? Would she like being at home with kids? Would she be a good mom? All those things collapse in on a mother making such a change, you know.
I suppose it was a month or two after she’d made that change that she made the comment to me one day, “I always knew I’d like being a mom at home with the kids, but I didn’t know that I’d love it!”
I was so pleased to hear that! She discovered that she really loved being a mom at home. As she and I discussed that realization, we felt grateful. We were aware that the joy of that realization was the fruit of lots of big and little decisions over the previous 10 years or so of our lives, choices to be obedient to prophetic counsel that pointed the way to building such a family life.
Wendy and I chose each other from among our many acquaintances. We liked each other. We enjoyed each other’s company. We fell in love. We observed each other’s interactions, priorities, choices, aspirations, not usually consciously, but just as a result of spending time together. We found matching desires for family. Our love deepened. Our separate hopes became a joined hope of a couple, the beginnings of a new family. And we began building that life, setting the foundation for it, some through conversation and open decision, and some just as a function of who we were and what we understood about each other. It all happened so naturally, so normally.
We had the experience, too, of knowing someone who’d not made those same choices. While expecting the first child, she and her husband made lifestyle upgrades that committed them to a certain income level, that committed the mother to her work. Our friend made the comment sometime during that first year that she’d not anticipated wanting to stay home with the children. As a result of not allowing for that possibility, she no longer had the choice. While reversible to a certain extent, they stayed the course and built a life around those choices, too, like we have ours. Certainly, I could never judge another’s choices and decisions. I would never have dreamed to make such a conclusion myself about another’s situation! But it provided me some insight when she shared that thinking with us herself.
And, yes, I got all that from a son’s cough in the night. I know. It’s amazing I ever get anything done! For the record, the cough had subsided without meds. And I go to bed too late again. You know, getting up early for work next Monday is not gonna be fun.
Oops! I spoke too soon. There was another light cough. The meds are on the banister in the hall. We’ll see if they’re needed later.
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