The Best SAHM I Know Isn't a Mother - Page 2
Then my friend, we'll call him Mike, had a daughter of his own. He had found his calling. Fatherhood seemed to grace him, and he embraced it more easily than I embraced motherhood. He was a natural, while I still find myself fumbling. He tucked his baby girl into the baby carrier and went everywhere with her. He and his family visited us once. He brought us homemade apple pie. With a homemade crust and apples he and his daughter picked. We also woke up to the two of them whipping up waffles in our kitchen.
And then he had two more little girls. He dotes on them while managing to set a fine example and keep them in line. All the girls have exquisite manners, giddy charm, and share a love of school and college football. He makes home cooked meals and even brings them in chafing dishes to his wife's office. He throw elaborate parties and makes all the goodies himself. He bakes birthday cakes and lets the girls help decorate their own. He dresses up for Halloween and plans extraordinary scavenger hunts. He has saintly patience, a fantastic sense of humor, and an humongous heart. Mike is the dad that every little girl deserves.
He is the kind of parent I aspire to be. He manages the car pool line, playground politics, kitchen disasters, and drama filled tantrums with more aplomb than I can muster on the best of days. Maybe it's because he doesn't fight the 41-year old hormones kicking about inside. Maybe it's because he has different (dare I say, male?) sensibilities. Maybe it's because he can tune out what I can't.
Maybe it's because he's just a damn good dad.
An original Deep South Moms blog post.