In All Solemnity, I Turn Over The Keys...Er, Reins
It's Father's Day. And I am thankful that I hit the Dad jackpot; I have a very distinguished Dad from whom I inherited no sense of style at all. Honestly, he is Senior Ken Doll. His hair is never out of place, hair, I must add, that is not iron gray but a gorgeous silver-white. Of course. He worked for a gentlemen's clothier for years and it shows. He is way too sophisticated to have a kid like me, but still fun.
I also have a stepfather who is as much Dad to me as my bio-Dad. He was a football player back in the day, and despite his age and numerous back surgeries, he'll always be eight feet tall to me. He's a strong silent type with a high-pitched cackle of a laugh that I miss hearing. I'm exceedingly grateful that he went back to work, in real estate, right before my mom got sick. I know he was able to keep busy and be surrounded by friends after she died.
I also got a great father-in-law. He doesn't look a thing like hubs, but they think and act as one. Right down to the Demon of Uncontrollable Punning.
My husband is also a fabulous father. And he is proving it by this one act: He is teaching the kids how to drive.
I carried them, had surgeries and episiotomies having them, potty trained them, taught them to read and tie their shoes and dress themselves, and had (and continue to have) the sex talks with them. I taught them about personal grooming and deodorant and shampoo. I, in short, am done. I'll be on hand to pick them up at parties if they're in trouble, to hug after broken hearts, and to help choose colleges, but the Next Big Thing is totally on hubby's shoulders.
Which is good, because OHMIGODSHE'SFIFTEENANDAHALF! She's demanding the book from the DMV! She's ready to study and take the written test! My baby! My little angel! DRIVING!
Talk me down, friends, talk me down.
I know I will be like my mom was- she was convinced she had a brake on the passenger side floorboard. I'm surprised she didn't put her foot right through, and try to brake the car ala Flintstones. In the most terrifying moments, she was also a master of hissing like an angry rattler as she sucked in enough air through her teeth to make everyone in the car pass out.
Which is why I'm so totally happy to turn this responsibility over to him, and I won't have to drive with the kids until they've safely mastered the skill. Right? Right?
Sigh. I'd better stock up on oxygen bottles and reinforce the floorboards.
I also have a stepfather who is as much Dad to me as my bio-Dad. He was a football player back in the day, and despite his age and numerous back surgeries, he'll always be eight feet tall to me. He's a strong silent type with a high-pitched cackle of a laugh that I miss hearing. I'm exceedingly grateful that he went back to work, in real estate, right before my mom got sick. I know he was able to keep busy and be surrounded by friends after she died.
I also got a great father-in-law. He doesn't look a thing like hubs, but they think and act as one. Right down to the Demon of Uncontrollable Punning.
My husband is also a fabulous father. And he is proving it by this one act: He is teaching the kids how to drive.
I carried them, had surgeries and episiotomies having them, potty trained them, taught them to read and tie their shoes and dress themselves, and had (and continue to have) the sex talks with them. I taught them about personal grooming and deodorant and shampoo. I, in short, am done. I'll be on hand to pick them up at parties if they're in trouble, to hug after broken hearts, and to help choose colleges, but the Next Big Thing is totally on hubby's shoulders.
Which is good, because OHMIGODSHE'SFIFTEENANDAHALF! She's demanding the book from the DMV! She's ready to study and take the written test! My baby! My little angel! DRIVING!
Talk me down, friends, talk me down.
I know I will be like my mom was- she was convinced she had a brake on the passenger side floorboard. I'm surprised she didn't put her foot right through, and try to brake the car ala Flintstones. In the most terrifying moments, she was also a master of hissing like an angry rattler as she sucked in enough air through her teeth to make everyone in the car pass out.
Which is why I'm so totally happy to turn this responsibility over to him, and I won't have to drive with the kids until they've safely mastered the skill. Right? Right?
Sigh. I'd better stock up on oxygen bottles and reinforce the floorboards.
posted by Robyn | 7:09 PM
3 Comments:
With my mother it was the claw marks in the upholstery.
My mom did this huge, whooping intake of breath whenever she felt like her life was at stake. Of course, the first time I drove the car ever I ran down the birdhouse so I suppose she was justified in my case.
Hmm... I think there's a blog in this for me somewhere...
I refuse to think about the day that either one of my children will have access to the car keys.
I!REFUSE! AND YOU CAN'T FORCE ME OUT OF MY DENIAL! YOU HEAR ME?!
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