I got this from a dear friend today....I had to share because more the 10 of these things is my husband. I love him with all my heart....# 18 is for you babe!
54 Things That Make You Our Dream DadUnderstands why you want to go away with a friend for a weekend (and is not petrified to be on his own with the kids, will not need to call on any grandparents for help, and will not refer to his time with the kids-this weekend or ever-as “babysitting,” “kid duty,” or “being locked in a Turkish prison”).
Puts together the 3,240-part Ikea Crib.
Doesn’t smell like Old Spice.
Can identify both Kit and Kirsten in an American Girl doll lineup.
Knows how to drive stick.
Does not go boxerless under his bathrobe after the children turn, say, 7 years old.
Gets in the pool with the kids-even when it’s 60 degrees and rainy.
Still looks good while doing so.
Is good with a nickname.
Reminds you, as your heart breaks over the thought of your son being the only one at the recital who didn’t have a parent there, that it’s a long game, this parenting thing, and one-or ten- screw-ups do not make you a bad mother.
Is not afraid to wipe an ass.
He’s the fun one.
Makes sure you-and not just the kids-are documented in the digital family archive (essential for guaranteeing future envy of your currently skinny, wrinkle-free self).
He can do the dark.
Knows there are few greater pleasures in life-after you’ve been home with the kids all day, unable to shower-than the evening cocktail.
Knows exactly how much gin and how much tonic.
Powers through a hangover to get up with the kids so you can sleep off your own (gin-and-tonic-induced) hangover.
Continues talking to you like a fully functioning, highly intelligent, independent human being, even when he comes home from work to find you weeping quietly into a bowl of strained peas, still dressed in your pajamas, caressing your breast pump, and asking to be reminded why you decided to have kids again.
Packs an enviably well edited weekend bag.
Never adds “for a mom” after “you look great.”
Never asks you, as you’re getting dressed, if you’ve “lost all the baby weight yet.”
Knows how to immediately bring the kids to heel.
Can build a sand castle-the drippy kind with high towers, flags, a moat, and seashell cornice.
Appreciates anything old-school.
Comes home from the weekly shop with the right brand of everything…and the perfect extras.
Knows how you like your steak (medium) and how you like theirs (well-done and cut into microscopic pieces).
Initiates date night (and does not count the Mariners game and six-pack as date night).
Never asks you, as the appetizers arrive on date night, “So, what’s your five-year plan?”
Does not have milfhunter.com on his office bookmarks bar.
Responds, “Tied for first,” every time he’s asked by his children or wife whom he loves the most. Always.
Applies equal enthusiasm and verve to playing dolls and kicking a soccer ball.
Knows hot to install a car seat.
Strikes just the right balance between chivalrous and evolved, modern and classic.
Has achieved a measure of peace with the fact that his sex life will never be like it was, but knows that is not the same as it being over.
Makes sure your tolerance for Hannah Montana and the Annie soundtrack is offset by Gnarls Barkley, Radiohead, and Solomon Burke.
Unapologetically hangs his daughters rainbow and unicorn drawings in his office, and doesn’t care when his childless, clearly-no-eye-for-talent coworker gives him crap for it.
He runs the kitchen.
Accepts that your children have free will and that they may not want to grow up to be athletes or doctors or investment bankers.
Knows how to be in your corner (“How dare she say that!”) when you’re down (“You did nothing wrong!”) and wondering what the hell you’re doing with your life (“You are not a fraud!”)
.
Still likes to cop a feel.
He gets it done.
Appreciates why you sometimes (okay, almost always) have to spend the extra few dollars on a good pair of shoes, even for him.
Will set you straight (lovingly) when you start worrying about insane stuff, like VOC’s in the frame of your kid’s bed.
Does not take it (too) personally when his kids, for a time, like their mother more than him.
Does not gloat (too) overtly when his kids, for a time, like him more than their mother.
Understands fully, when you’re figuring out if it “makes sense” to go back to work after having kids, that there are some metrics (i.e., the emotional kind) that don’t show up on the balance sheet.
Doesn’t assume that your decision to stay home with the kids means that he gets to opt out of attending the parent-teacher conference, packing the book bag, replacing the diaper Genie cartridge, and participating in the general day-to-day operations of raising children.
Doesn’t assume that you’re the one who has to rearrange your workday when the babysitter calls in sick.
Pays the bills without your prompting.
Asks them “How was the gym?” on Mondays and Thursdays.
Valiantly removes his cuff links, rolls up his sleeves, and rescues Ariel from the disposal.
Pack lunches.
Recognizes that, while parenting is never for one second easy and often makes both of you tired and edgy and wistful for your prekid days, it’s the most rewarding most life-affirming thing you will ever do in your lives.
He understands subtext.
What She Says:
“I know, I hear the baby. I’m getting up.”
What She Means:
“I’m not actually getting up. I’m just dramatically propping myself up on my elbows and waiting for you to pre-empt my getting up with your getting up.”
What She Says:
“Have you seen my keys?”
What She Means:
“Get up and look for my keys, because if you don’t, I’ll be circling you on the couch, complaining about how my life is out of control, until I find them.”
What She Says:
“How was your day?”
What She Means:
“How was my day?”
What She Says:
“No. Really. I like the goatee.”
What She Means:
Take a guess.
What She Says:
“Could you please pass the salt?”
What She Means:
“My life is a prison! I’m over-whelmed and overworked! Why do I have to keep track of everything? Can’t anyone ever take care of me?!!”
What She Says:
“Jacob and Daniel are growing up so fast-can you believe this time last year, Daniel wasn’t even walking?”
What She Means:
“This is warning: The next conversation we have will be about me wanting another child. Prepare your argument now (and it better be good).”
What She Says:
“I can’t believe Dave interrupted you like that in the meeting. Were you able to report on your numbers overseas?”
What She Means:
“Fill out camp forms, get stain out of jacket before work tomorrow, call Lucy’s doctor about eczema, take pork out of freezer…”
What She Says:
“Do you want to order in tonight?”
What She Means:
“Run me a bath and bring me a bottle of Advil. Then take the kids out for pizza and don’t come back until Friday.”
