ChelsiI write this on Father’s Day as I consider how I absolutely won the lottery of men in my life. From my father to my father-in-laws to my Papa to my brother-in-laws to my hubby.
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It is interesting to think about the influence of the men in my life from little on. I spent a lot of quality time with my soft spoken Papa (Grandpa Larson) and my mild mannered dad.
I guess I grew up with quiet men- men who were short on words but tall on action.
I remember riding in my dad’s rusty pickup. He took us everywhere- school, auctions, Fleet Farm, and “the farm”.
We drove up that winding hill to Papa’s house nearly every day. My sister, Dad, and I were all in the front without seatbelts; this was the ’90s. As Dad turned a sharp corner, the passenger door would periodically fly open and Dad would stick his arm out in front of us (to do the job of a seatbelt I suppose) until he turned a corner the other way and the door would slam shut again.
I also remember a rusted out hole in the floor of that truck that Dad would spit his chewing tobacco through.
Windows down and wind in our snarled hair, country music playing loudly, the thrill of the winding road, the excitement of going to Papa’s house; I loved these truck rides.
With Papa, I remember being in the barn during milking time. Papa let us be a part of all the action- feeding the cows, calling them in “C’mon Bessy!”, and dipping their teats in iodine before he attached the milker.
Papa had pink mints in his pocket and more to be found in a jar in the milk parlor. Papa was always hard at work and happy. He made us feel important, loved, full of pink mints, and oh so happy.
It makes sense that I married a guy with a lot of the same traits as the ones that raised me- hard working, joyful, loving, and loyal.
In contrast, Michael does talk more!
For the past five years, Michael has been our SAHD (stay at home dad). He makes parenting look easy which is equal parts frustrating and appreciated.
I often joke that he should start a daycare as it’s clear that he speaks the language of children and can get them to adhere to any task.
A couple weeks ago, Michael kept Hutch and our nephews busy for an entire afternoon picking up sticks after a storm because he agreed to pay them one penny per stick. Hutch claims to have picked up 860 sticks and made 8 dollars.
Anyone who knows Michael (or has been a reader of my blogs) knows that he is the king of projects.
As children learn through play, Michael seamlessly incorporates play into each of his projects and the kids become a part of everything he does.
He even outfitted the chicken coop so that Hutch can do the chores without any adult assistance.
When I come home from my 12 hour shifts, the kids are tucked away in bed looking taller than when I left them, the house is clean, and there is always a delightful bit of evidence from their day together- a bucket of homemade chalk, new rocks sitting on the ledge above our sink, or a “laminated” (entirely taped over with packing tape) piece of paper that counts from one to centillion, or as stated on the paper: 10^303.
Hutch is incredibly interested in numbers, and Michael diligently answers all of his math inquiries… “Daddy, what’s bigger than quadrillion?”
There was one rainy day that Michael disappeared to the shed to create a homemade pottery wheel so that we could do something with the clay that we found on our road trip.
It was an impressive fifteen minute construction that got the job done perfectly.
While I wouldn’t trade Michael for a centillion dollars, he’s not entirely perfect.
There are many nights when I come home from work to stare at my sleeping children that I notice they have been wearing the same clothes for three days straight.
Michael also cut out naps for Winnie when she was a mere 2.5 years old because “they are a waste of time.”
Yes, that is correct, our girl that easily goes down for a three hour nap is now nap-free because Daddy Boy finds being indoors on a perfectly good day to be “a waste of time.”
Another flaw of Michael’s is one that he and the children would certainly fight me on… and that flaw is “glurp”.
Glurp is the meal that Michael whips up every weekend when I work and serves in hearty portions to both me and the children.
While the children gobble it up in sheer delight, I unenthusiastically comply with it because it provides me dense calories in record time. A few of my coworkers laugh and say, “Glurp again?” as the beige meal spins around in the microwave.
Now for those of you wanting to know this special glurp recipe in order to feed your own family for three days straight with a record cook time of fifteen minutes… today is your lucky day. While you grab a pen and paper, I’m going to grab Michael to transcribe all of his trade secrets just for you.
Glurp:
Heat 8 cups water in a pot with stick of butter in it. Simultaneously start browning 2 lbs venison in skillet with garlic and onion powder. Just before the water boils add 2 drained cans of corn. Then when it reaches a boil, kill the heat and stir in 16 oz of instant mashed potatoes. Let it sit for 3 mins and mix the venison into the pot too. Done. Serves 1000lbs worth of human.
A common question that I receive while working with my wide variety of patients is, “What does your husband do for work?”
Based on the demographic of patients, I got it figured out how they will respond to my answer of “He’s our stay at home parent.”
Every man who is 70 years old or greater will be silent and very confused.
The men between the ages of 50 and 70 will be equally confused as their elder counterparts but will ask more questions such as, “He must be a drinker?” I think they are making the assumption that he has fallen into this role due to an inability to hold a job or maybe they think full time parenting causes this malady.
Every woman 50 years and older will be immediately in love with Michael: “That’s amazing. It is such a big job.”
Anyone younger than 50 typically nods in understanding and says something like, “I wish I could have done that,” or “What I wouldn’t give to spend those years with my kids again.”
I write about Michael’s SAHD era because unfortunately, this era has come to an end. Michael will be starting a job next week.
Michael and I will both work and share kid duties. This might lead to some new changes in our house. Instead of Winnie yelling “Daaadddd, wipe my butt!” or “Daaaaad, I’m awake,” she may begin to holler for Mama.
Instead of three days of glurp, I’ll be forcing homemade pasta and garden greens down Michael’s throat.
I’m still on the fence about reimplementing naps.
So, on this Father’s Day, I must give Michael a ton of love and appreciation for his five years of stay-at-home parenting.
Michael has shown our kids patience, adventure, love, an endless desire for learning, and so much fun.
Like rides with my dad in his rusty pickup truck or eating pink mints in the barn with Papa, I know my kids will fondly recall their many moments with Daddy Boy.
They will remember the numerous trips to Menards, Daddy’s “yellow candies” (butterscotch or lemon drops), Daddy chasing them around the kitchen making weird noises or goofy faces, sitting on the tractor or mower together, bike rides all around Winona or up on the state land, treehouse building, camping trailer building, playing Checkers with cereal, throwing rocks off the bridge, and possibly even- the glurp.
If my kids surround themselves with guys like the one that raised them, they will never be bored, and they will forever be loved. They will know the importance of a good and simple life.
Thank you, Daddy Boy.
Job well done.
