Turns Out

Jason and I were married twelve years ago today.  I amused myself earlier this afternoon by contrasting the things that happened in my life on June 19, 1999 with the things that happened in my life on June 19, 2011.  

1999:  slept in late and woke up at my parents' house as a singleton for the last time, giggled nervously with my best girlfriends as we had our photos taken before the wedding, walked down the aisle at Dimnent Chapel on my dad's arm, wore a gorgeous white dress, ate cake, said "I do," danced the night away and fell into bed exhausted before getting up mere hours later to embark on our honeymoon.

2011:  woke up in a condo at The Homestead at 6:04 a.m. when Jemma came in and touched my nose, giggled in a pile in the bed while Jason opened his Father's Day cards and gifts, walked to the library late in the afternoon while Jemma hummed "Here Comes the Bride" and looked for the bugs she calls "germs," wore my hair in a ponytail, said, "Stop it" five million times in the car, ate a black bean burger, gave Annie several thousand time-outs, gave baths, watched Jason fall asleep on the couch at 7:15.

Things have clearly changed.  The collision of Father's Day with our anniversary prompted me to think about how little I really knew about Jason - about how he'd be as a father, at least - when we were starting out all those years ago.  We were twenty-one and twenty-three years old, and when you get married that young and have no plans for children in the immediate future (plans for many years of professional school and working two jobs to support said school, instead), you aren't really evaluating your new spouse as parent material.  I wasn't, anyway.  On some level, of course I thought Jason was kind and fun, patient and happy, loving and compassionate and all the traits people need to parent well.  But I didn't really know what kind of a father he'd be.  I never thought about it for a second, actually.  I just knew I loved him and wanted to spend my life with him.

Turns out, he's the kind of dad who constructs a fairy house at a moment's notice.  He's the kind of dad who lets the kids squirt him right in the face with water after he's mown the lawn, who teaches girls how to skip stones into the lake, who answers questions about space and bones and trees.  He's the kind of dad who calms with a quiet voice and a look, who settles fights with humor, who doesn't worry about making a mess as long as there's fun involved.  He's the kind of dad who will devote an entire Saturday morning to setting up a restaurant complete with menus, table settings, music, candles, and food he lets the kids help cook, just because they asked.  He's the kind of dad who gets up with them in the morning and asks what kind of music they're in the mood for at breakfast.  He's the kind of dad who reads stories, flips pancakes, flies kites, draws pictures, sings songs, runs alongside bikes, points, laughs, kisses, smiles.

Turns out, he's exactly the husband and the dad that our family needs, and we're so very lucky to have him, asleep on the couch these twelve years later.