Ah Ha Moment in Domestic Sexy

Crossposted from my better half', the lovely and luscious Alaine

I have educated quite a few people regarding the reality of domestic sexy - when having your lawn cut is more appealing than flowers. The women in my circle understand the concept, most are married and happily in love with a partner for life who is anything but handy. A clean car and garage easily rival flowers. Not that I mind the flowers, I just think that there are a variety of more intriguing actions that make a significant impact on my life. Laundry. Mopping. Clean Dishes. Fresh Linen. and um....changing light bulbs.

It had been a bit dim upstairs for a few weeks in our household. I was struggling with noticing the lightbulbs given the other domestic challenges I had been facing. There's something really challenging about getting enough contract work that you are never at home to do your real work. My real work is centered out of our home, you know the aspiration to be the Proverbs 31 woman. I have dreams of blessing my household in the wee hours, yielding high regard for my husband, growing children who value my opinion more than the pop stars. I was feeling pretty smug about the domestic sexy concept, until my husband turned the lights out on my pride. He said in so many words - if you really liked domestic sexy you'd make sure I knew it.

I thought to myself, I just told you how much I value domestic sexy. He in return offered an astute directive - "I'm a hands on learner. I'd like to equate some action with your view of domestic sexy." Oh, okay. He's talking losing the domestic and the y and he's cool. Instant reward.

I was in Staples yesterday and selected printer paper with an instant rebate, vs. a cheaper brand that required a mail in rebate. I like instant rewards. I was reminded in that brief moment that my husband likes instant rewards too. I thought my positive affirmations and a phrase coined after his attention to my domestic priorities was a great reward. He, however, is in many ways a very simple creature. I guess wife rain checks aren't the prize I thought they were. Maybe a bit more instant reward will yield some core association like Pavlov's rat. Every time you take care of A, I'll take care of T&A. It sounds so crude and so unlady like and so contractual, it sounds so stiff, so....like I might get my patio and yard done if I did it. My personal Ah Ha Moment in Domestic Sexy indeed.

In Praise of My Woman

And now for something a little different

blessed - highly favored or fortunate (as e.g. by divine grace)

Alaine and I married 13 years ago and the word above is what describes my life ever since. Someone once said to me before we were married "Alaine will make an excellent wife, and she'll be a damn good mother to your kids". Truer words have never been spoken, and my only regret is that I am unlikely to ever be the all the husband she deserves.

Alaine is certainly physically beautiful. A glorious smile, an all woman figure, gorgeous skin. She's got all the good stuff on that score. But those are really just the icing on the cake. They are not the things that made me love her. Why do I love her? First and foremost, I love her mind. Alaine is whip smart. Not merely brainy, but perceptive and insightful. She often perceives that which zips right by me. Alaine is a lady, okay? She has great dignity and grace, a sense of style that is her own. She's strong, not to be trifled with. Doing her dirt or disrespecting her can put you on the endangered species list. Alaine is thoughtful, truly thoughtful. She writes notes and does special things for people all the time, naturally, because its just who she is. She has great integrity and is at times my moral compass when I lose my way. She is a wonderful mother. In this regard I cannot say enough. She exemplifies motherhood. In every way. My children are glorious little human beings and you only have to look at their mother to see why.

Lastly, like God, despite all my many flaws and truly gaping imperfections, she loves me.

And thats why I am called blessed.

Looking for Daddy

And now, something a little different.

I don't blog much about our family and children and relationships, an area I'm far less competent to discuss in comparison to my wife, who has spent her life writing about such things. But every once in a while, I have an insight.

I didn't grow up with my father, never even met him until I was 14. Mine was a single parent home. My mother raised me and my Dad simply wasn't in the picture. For the most part, I can only recall feeling sorry for myself about this once during childhood. It was a moment that passed quickly and I got on with life. Having no Dad was just the way it was and how it had always been. While it never really troubled me, paradoxically, I grew up resolving that I would have a whole family one day and that my children would know their father.

Even still, though I understand intellectually that my children love me and that my interaction and presence in their life is important and meaningful to them, I have to confess that more often than not it doesn't feel particularly real and present to me. But sometimes it gets brought home to me with great clarity.

Not long ago, my 6 year old son Noah (pictured top left), had a Daddy's Day at school. On this day, all the Dads were to come for lunch and eat with their kids and hang out with them. I was a few minutes late arriving at the school and when I got there, the children had already been seated in the cafeteria with their Dads at the tables. I walked in and began looking for my son. I spotted him before he spotted me. He was looking for me too. He was sitting at the table, scanning the room, on the lookout for me. It was the look on his face as he searched anxiously for sign of his Dad that I haven't forgotten since: a look of worry and concern, maybe even the beginnings of fear, that his Dad was not going to be there for him, that maybe he had been abandoned. It was a look that told me that while this was perhaps just an inconvenient interruption of my workday for me, that for him it was a big frikking deal. It mattered to him big time. It made a difference to him if I was there or not.

I waved to catch his attention as I strode forward to join him, like a giant through a crowd of elves. For a moment, all I thought was "let me banish that look from his eyes right now". When he saw me, his face lit up like the brightest strobe light you've ever seen (my son has a wonderful smile). He hollered "Daddy" as I came into his view and instantly his demeanor changed from fearful and worried to happy and carefree. We had a wonderful time. But in that moment before he knew I was there, when he was "looking for Daddy", I learned something about how very real and important my presence is to him. I grew up without Dad and its clear to me that I really missed something, though strangely enough, its hard to define what it was. But now and then, I gain glimpses of what I lost through my children, who have what I did not. I never knew a childhood with my father. My children will never know one without.