A Tribute to Fuzzy

Every married person I know who has a husband grouses about him once in a while.  I grouse about mine from time to time, too.  He was raised in a household very different from mine, so he must occasionally be reminded that the magic fairy who shows up in the night and throws away the packaging from food used to be his father and is now me, and his Lego collection is to the "No, it's not that you need more shelves!" stage.  That being said, the man is a saint.  I'm a lucky girl.

Right now, he's washing the dishes so that I can write.  With Tiny being in a growth spurt that turns her into a human Hungry Hungry Hippos game and Kiddo needing me to be her personal Tim Gunn at the dress form, I only get a couple hours each night to pursue any of my personal goals like finishing commissions, building my stock, or writing my blog.  He takes over what he can to give me those hours, be it washing dishes while listening to a podcast or folding laundry in front of a movie.  His father taught him well.

We lost Fuzzy's father when Tiny was about a month old.  He had been fighting cancer for a long time, and when we announced our pregnancy, he pushed himself mercilessly to make it to meeting her.  I think every doctor was given "My new grandbaby!" updates at every appointment for those last months.  Fuzzy's father loved children immensely, especially babies, and had been looking forward to grandfatherhood for decades (Fuzzy is the youngest, and has two older brothers, one of whom is considerably older than him).  Kiddo was his buddy from her first seconds of life on the outside, and he just loved every minute of her.  He also taught his son to father by example.  He taught his son that because the child's mother had done the work of creating the child and the food for the child, surely the child's father can change diapers, master the "it's sleepy time!" bouncy walk, and handle more of the household chores until things get a bit easier for his partner.  Fuzzy gets up at our baby's cry, and if she can't be soothed, brings her to me in bed.  He sleeps while I feed her, then gets back up to put her back to bed.  Bless him.  Lucky me.

He also shows his awesome Dadness with Kiddo, being the present parent for most of her activities while I work tech rehearsals and finish commissions, as well as introducing her to many of his favorite things.  His work lets out early enough that he has been the ballet Dad, the gymnastics Dad, the yoga Dad, and so on.  They create Lego designs together, and are thick as thieves.  I adore them together.

Thank you, Fuzzy.  I love being a mother with you as a father.