Revelations (but not the final chapter)

Spoiler alert! The following blog entry is sticky with sappy post-Valentine thoughts. Read at your own risk!

Just 2 months shy of a decade ago, I sauntered through the doors of the local large animal clinic and got my first glimpse of my husband-to-be. I took in the view appreciatively: tall, athletic build, wavy disarrayed hair, a smear of manure on his coveralls, and the biggest darned hands I’ve ever seen on an upright primate. Somewhere deep in the primitive part of my brain, it’s probable that I was completing a mental checklist of traits that would make him a suitable mate, but the accessible parts of my gray matter simply registered, “Cute” and moved on for the time being. What certainly did not register at the time was the thought, “Now there’s a pair of hands that could really handle a diaper!” Nope. Didn’t cross the radar at all.

As I got to know him over the course of the next few months, I discovered many facts about this fascinating specimen: he is a great short-order cook, generally hates board games, is a coffee snob, has an almost unhealthy love for his cat, and is the kindest person I’ve ever met. As I fell for him (and did I ever fall hard!), his suitability as a baby daddy was never considered. We wined, dined, skated, traveled, ran, read, and sailed through a ridiculously long courtship and then settled down into our happily-ever-after phase.

Like wives have done since the beginning of wedded bliss history, I have come to appreciate his many talents and have tried to overlook some of his more unusual quirks (for sake of privacy, I won’t list those here, but both talents and quirks are many and bizarre). What completely blindsided me was my discovery of entirely new facets of this familiar man that has been revealed by fatherhood. The entire experience has been transformational in a way that exceeds the changes brought on by extreme sleep deprivation.

Three weeks before Izzy’s arrival, our church threw an over-the-top baby shower that armed us with all of the essentials and then some. I remember the baffled look that became a permanent fixture on Dave’s face by the end of the 2-hour gift opening. (He had not shared my previous Toys R Us scare-a-thon whereby I realized the vast array of baby-related items that would soon be thrust into our world). The veteran dad’s in the room exchanged knowing glances as Dave put each new item aside with nervous comments like, “I’m sure Jen will know what to do with that.” His obvious unfamiliarity with everything from onesies to burp cloths was endearing but fleeting.

Fast forward to the present…he just took over the Izzy duty so I can go to work. Picture the scene (I’ve just removed my hands from the keyboard to form the imaginary-thumbs-together-hand-camera lens to assist with this). He is wearing painter style jeans. From the back pocket protrudes a bib; a perfectly warmed bottle of milk swings rhythmically from the hammer hook, Dr. Suess is hanging out in the cargo pocket, and a boppy pillow is fitted around his waist. This is the renaissance man ready for action. One size XXL hand expertly navigates the intricacies of baby diapering while the other tips his coffee mug in a salute to the Folger family. And he even picked out a matching onesie and ruffled pants set. He is making this look easy.

It isn’t really fair; while motherhood has lowered my expectations when gazing in the looking glass to a lifetime low (think stretch marks and dark eye circles), he is making this parent thing look…well, somehow sexy. Not only did he not have the appearance of the Stay-Pufft Marshmallow Man for 9 months, the C-section scar, or the wardrobe built-for-two, he could be the cover boy for Parenting Magazine!

But I am not bitter about him entering parenthood unscathed while I can’t find my waistline without GPS. After all, his natural ease with his baby girl combined with his fashionable daddy-on-the-go look is akin to having a pool-boy but without the guilt of voyeurism. Yep, ours is a household of lucky girls. I have a hot and capable baby daddy who loves his little girl. Izzy has an awesome dad who thinks she’s perfect (and right he is). And his original lady love? Well, let’s just say that his cat Sophie has finally found a healthier and more suitable place in the pecking order.