The Russian dolls of love
NS November 7th, 2007
When I married my husband, I thought I knew him pretty well. He’s fairly pro-feminist, sensitive and caring but he also has a shy streak that prevents him from talking to strangers or people in authority. It took him years of goading from me to be able to phone up and order a takeaway without stammering and blustering his way through the conversation. If someone was rude or provided terrible service, he didn’t complain (that was left to me as the resident nag and bolschy American).
If kids were around, his arms were firmly folded in a defensive position upon his chest as he had no idea what to do around them. In this, we were much the same. Neither one of us were ‘kid people’ until we had one of our own. In some ways, I’m still not. Sure, if they’re small and cute and around my daughter’s age (and so have something in common) I feel quite at ease, but older kids still frighten the bejeesus out of me. I just don’t know what to say to a +5-year-old. I don’t want to sound patronising and talk down to them like idiots but I don’t know what they are capable of conversationally or intellectually. And teens? Even less of a clue, especially if they are shy and have to be drawn out of their shell. What am I supposed to say, “So, how is it these days, dealing with being expected to look like a Stepford supermodel, smoke crack and fall down with your pants around your knees every weekend, pissed on vodka drinks, while not appearing to be a swot but still, somehow, doing well enough at school to get into a great university where you graduate with top marks and move immediately onto a career that will earn you fame, fortune and status by the tender age of 23? That is, if you don’t make it as reality tv star first.” Um, yeah. I don’t think they or their parents would appreciate that.
So, where was I? Oh yeah. My darling husband. So, he used to be really reserved around people he didn’t know, especially kids. But now that he’s a father, he has done almost a complete 180 turn. The guy who used to sit in the corner fidgeting nervously and saying “Uh, hi there, Tommy” while looking for an escape route is now the most outgoing, inclusive, approachable guy when it comes to kids.
We were at my inlaws’ house awhile back and they had some distant family over for lunch. They brought their children who were about 8, 10 and 13, I think. I had no clue what to say to them really and found myself plastering on a smile and just saying “Hello” about a million times when they stared at me. I made an excuse to leave the room and retreated upstairs for awhile. When TNH didn’t follow and was still down there over 30 minutes later, I went down to carry out a rescue mission. Surely he was caught up in some polite convo and felt stuck talking to the kids or their parents about some banality or other. But I found him there, casual and confident as anything, engaging the teenage boy in computer and video game talk while feeding our daughter her lunch and playing with the two little girls, all at the same time. I was in awe. And when he takes TNC to her music class on Saturday mornings at the library, by himself, he always reports back about some little tot giving him a hug or chatting to one of the mums there.
Watching or hearing about the ways he has blossomed into fatherhood is one of the things that gives me the most joy these days. When I look at him holding our daughter in his arms, showering her with cuddles and tickles, or how he never leaves in the morning without giving us each a kiss and saying “Goodbye my beautiful girls,” or when he takes my hand as we leave her room after putting her to bed together and says “I love her so much it hurts,” it makes me realise just how lucky I am. As much as he drives me crazy sometimes with his little quirks and messiness, I have never, not even for one second, ever doubted our love for each other. And just when I think I know him too well, he surprises me again.
When we had a blackout the other night (which I mentioned in a previous post), he came in from work to find me and the kiddo sitting in the candlelight, hugging each other tightly and watching the neighbourhood fireworks (for Guy Fawkes Day) burst into the night sky like rockets propelled from a far off ship. TNC’s arms outstretched for him as she twisted from me and towards her father, seeking the comfort and safety of his embrace. His nose nuzzled her hair as he closed his eyes tightly and breathed her in. I can almost see the love emanating from his heart, so plainly transparent, as if it were E.T.’s glowing chest. His heart on his sleeve, his heart on display.
And then he asks me “Do you know that guy who lives down the street, the mentally handicapped guy in the wheelchair?” I nod affirmatively and tell him that his name is Alex (we’ve said hello a few times in the six weeks we’ve been here). TNH’s brow furrows as he tells me that he just saw Alex, sitting in the doorway to his house looking concerned and muttering “I didn’t knock out the lights” as if he had caused the power outage. We wondered if he had anyone who lived with him as we weren’t sure of the severity of his handicap. The two times I saw him he was with a young blonde woman no older than myself who could’ve been a family member visiting or a care worker, I really didn’t know. TNH said “I think I should go back and make sure he’s okay, bring him some candles and check that he’s alright.” We debated over whether or not lighting candles and then leaving them unsupervised in the house of a disabled man in a wheelchair was advisable or not but before we could get ourselves sorted out and think about walking down to check on him, the lights came back on.
When they did, I saw my husband in a whole new light. The man who previously followed the Tube rule with regards to strangers (avert eyes, ignore anything out of the ordinary, keep to oneself) was a bona fide concerned citizen of our community (as cheesy as that sounds), a doting father who runs down the street making silly noises to amuse TNC and smiling at children in the shops and meeting places of our town. Going on this incredible journey of parenthood and home ownership in the past couple years with him has given me a whole new appreciation for him and our partnership. And when I think I’ve got him peeled down to his last layer, he sheds that skin and shows another side that I’d never seen.
This is the stuff soulmates are made of.
