'Tis himself

/photo18/08/69/31cb92314889.jpeg Sometimes I look over and I see my husband for who he is. I mean I really give him a long look-see and have a long think about that man.  It's easy to lose focus on the particulars as we're whirling on this carousel of snack packing and stuffed monkey fetching, pirouetting around the same square footage of floor space all day. I will be the first to tell you that I never thought I would get so caught up in this madness, so much that I get to the end of the day and I hear Loverpants swishing mouthwash in the bathroom and I think, Did I look him in the eye today?  Or did we carry on like comic book characters, our thoughts pinned to the air in thought bubbles, as we bent over and picked rattles off the floor and packed a school lunch for the girl grabbing one of our knees and asking for another temporary tattoo...

When I take a long look at my husband, I see glints of John 1.0, the college dude with the Nalgene carabinered to his adidas pants, walking his inimitable slow jaunt, headed somewhere with purpose but in no hurry to get there.  I hear his latenight laughter or his hoarse senior RA yell at his freshmen residents.  I can smell the faint scent of chlorine on his hoodie and the ample plate of fries he will eat at lunch in Brooks Dining Hall.

I have not forgotten who he was and moreover I have not forgotten who we were, but these days I have to work to remember that we are more than co-pilots.  We have history.  We used to eat whole disgusting trays of Country Fair nachos at 2 a.m. and walk up a brisk 1/2 mile hill laughing the entire way.  Now we say things like, "Wow, that's a medium tinkle!" and we wish we had lo-jack for Blue Eyed Baby who pulls more disappearing acts before bedtime than Houdini.

*** Sitting across from Baby Girl this afternoon at Mickey D's, she eating a small fries, drinking a berry smoothie. Little Man asleep in the stroller.

"Where's John?" asks Baby Girl.  {She bandies about his first name because she knows it.}

"At work."


"Do you know what Daddy's job is?"


"He's a therapist."


"Well, that's just what he does.  He helps people...


...Do you know what job you want when you grow up?"

"I'm going to become a daddy," she said.

Kid you not.