Page 71 of Husband of the Year
“Je suis impressionné,” I say, proud of remembering something from the two years of French I took in high school.
“Marvin, here’s the thing about being a parent—kids don’t come with instructions. And all the parenting books and mommy blogs in the world aren’t going to tell you what’s right for your kid—because each one is unique. You love your child, do the best you can, and understand from time to time you’re going to royally mess up. But they’re built to survive. Maria is doing just fine—even with all the extra cookies.”
“More than fine, if you ask me,” I say. “And thank you. I honestly didn’t think fatherhood was in the cards for me, but with Illona, I don’t know, it just feels…”
“Natural,” Jill says. “That’s what happens when you love them. You figure it out.”
“Well, thankfully, Olan’s parents are taking on that role with his nephew. And they’ve raised three boys so…”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Jill stands and gives a firm nod. “Totally for the best.”
She raises an eyebrow and turns toward her easel to finish writing her message.
“Okay, friends, let’s get ready to share something we did over the weekend.”
I’m sitting on the floor, sandwiched between Michael and Marley. I’ve privately asked both boys to sit next to me on the carpet. They both tend to be squirrelly, chatty, and have trouble focusing. It makes everyone’s lives easier if they’re next to me. Like many children, Michael finds solace in plastering his entire body against my side, and this is enough to settle him. All Marley needs is a quiet hand on his shoulder to remindhim of the rules. During the first few months of the school year, the other children would ask if they could sit next to me, but now they understand this is what these boys need. It’s what’s best for them and the entire class.
“When you share, it might sound like ‘this weekend I…’ and remember it doesn’t have to be anything particularly exciting like a birthday party—although yay if you went to one. It can just be something simple, like going to the store or playing a game with your family.”
There are lots of nods.
“I’ll go first,” I say. “This weekend I had breakfast with my mother.” I leave out the details about Sheldon, Theo, and the wedding planning to keep my share short.
“You’re so lucky your mom is here,” Andrew says. His top lip quivers and I pray to Kelly Clarkson he doesn’t have a crying relapse. The first two weeks of school, he cried. Every. Single. Day.
“When I’m grown up, I want my mom to live with me, too,” Amanda says. Andrew perks up at the possibility of this.
“My mom doesn’t live with me,” I clarify.
“So she can take care of me,” Amanda continues, ignoring me.
“And my husband… or wife,” Riley says. My shoulders pull back with pride.
“And your baby, too. Moms are fantastic with babies,” Austin says. He would know. He’s got six siblings.
“Daddies too,” Amanda says. She shoots me a wink, and it takes every ounce of restraint for me to hold back my laugh.
As usual, my short, simple share has completely derailed us. Instead of fighting it, I let them chat, doing my best to guide the conversation.
“Yes, most parents are good with babies,” I say. “But when you grow up, usually, your parents don’t live with you. My mom is only visiting.”
“Maybe she’ll stay forever!” Andrew shouts and my heart does a little flip in my chest. Andrew would probably love it if his mother flew across the country to stay with him without a plan to leave.
“No, no, she’s just helping while Olan is away. She’s definitely not staying forever.”
I’m saying it for them, but also me. Truth is, I really haven’t minded having her around. Even though I’m sure Illona and I would’ve been fine on our own, it’s nice having the support. And let’s be real, my meals are no competition for hers. I smile, thinking about the leftover chicken and rice she packed for our lunches today.
“But if you and Olan had a baby, maybe she could stay and help more?” Austin asks.
If Olan and I had a baby? Clearly, I’m not about to delve into the intricacies of reproduction and discuss the birds and bees with my class.
“We have Illona,” I remind them.
“She’s not a baby,” Amanda says.
“But maybe she wants a little sister?” Ben asks. He often talks about wanting a sibling, but his parents confided during their parent conference, they have no plans to expand their family.
“Or brother?” Austin says.
