The Daddy

Well...

It's not often that fathers get discussed in blogs unless they are getting cussed out or we've just had enough. It's not often that dad's get the recognition that they deserve for being heroes in their own right. Mother's are usually the ones to take the accolades and sympathies. Men just don't usually garner that kind of attention. I would like to say that my son's father, my husband, my hunky man - deserves some praise.

My hunky man is just that - he is a big fella. He used to be bigger. Heck, I used to be smaller. He walked in to a room and people would stop and look. He was big. Sometimes that's all they would see. Depending on which end of the bouncer you were on, there wasn't really much of a chance to see much else. As we matured, he lost some of that bulk - that big guy wow factor. Which was great for me as clothes were so much easier to buy for. But he never lost that big guy feeling. People still know when they look at him, that he is not one to be messed with. Except me of course - I mess with him all the time. But then again I give perks.

This big man, this hunky fella - he is the father of my children and I doubt I could have chosen better if I tried. When our children were born, this big man would take these wee babies and cuddle them, coo to them, soothe them. He rocked them and changed them and marvelled over anything they did. He was wrapped. Babies just go to him and instantly calm down and feel safe. It must be where our son gets one of his many gifts which is how children are drawn to Thomas. No fear, no worry just play with me and I know you won't hurt me.

As our children grew, my hunky fella got a bit smaller. Still big enough for people to go - hey you need to move that ? Ask Mikey. Hey you need that knocked down ? Ask Mikey. But as a father he got better and better. He grew leaps and bounds in the dad department. He played and he read stories and he taught them to swim and he taught them how to ride a bike. He showed them stars and bugs and all kinds of things. I often thanked him then for being the father of my children. Most days I still do. He gave me the best piece of advice of anyone when people would offer suggestions and I thought I was doing it all wrong. "You are the mother of this child and you know your baby better than anyone." God love him for that. I know I do.

When Thomas was a baby and toddler, he got sicker and sicker. Races to the hospital for asthma attacks and colds. Running to specialists for appointments and evaluations for allergies and weeping skin. Being at home, I did alot of them alone but my hunky fella was right there when he could be. They said, You can't fix his skin Mrs. Plouffe - just accept it. Hell no. Now my hunky fella didn't always agree with my choices but he backed me up. Not always graciously but he tried. They said Thomas' skin might get better by the time he was 7 or 8. I had him cleared up by 3 1/2. Don't tell me no ! Well didn't my hunky fella tell all who would listen about his wife who wouldn't take no for an answer.

As he grew, it became apparent that Thomas wasn't functioning quite "normally". He started getting help thanks to Mary Heathcote his nursery school teacher. The centre said after some skills assessments, let the school handle it. He'll get evaluated eventually. It will sort itself out. Hell no. My child needs help and you will give it to him if I have to take it by force. I got his psycoeducational evaluation over two years before the school would have done it. My hunky fella took Thomas for most of the appointments. When we started seeing Dr. Weaver at ErinOak, my hunky fella was right there. When we got the diagnosis of Aspergers, my hunky fellas sat there holding my hand as I cried. Dr. Weaver said - it's ok. He will grow up. He will have relationships. He will be able to hold a job. My response ? If my son grows up to be half the man his father is, then I will be happy.

Most people would think, what's the big deal ? This is what dad's should do. My husband, my hunky fella, the father of my children did all of this while working two and sometimes three jobs so I could stay home. He did this while working on our house, repairing foundations, fixing problems inside and single handedly re-roofing our house. He did this while helping friends move, helping friends with their houses, helping my mom and his mom. He would put in a full work week plus overtime and come home and take the kids to the park so I could have a break. He would take care of his own laundry (which he prefers thank God), help around the house, mow the lawn and trim the hedges. He would take them swimming because I don't like public pools. He took them skating because I have a hard time with crowds and I don't skate well. That is why he is a big deal.

I got inspired to write this by my friend Jessica's title of her blog - Sometimes Heroes Come in Small Packages. Sometimes they come in big, quiet, fun loving, hunky, helpful and fabulous packages too. My hunky fella - am I lucky or what ?

Different Views

Well....

My husband continues to surprise me in enforcing how differently men and women see situations. I read him my last blog and he balked at the word "save" in reference to our son. He doesn't see my efforts on Thomas' behalf as a mission. He just sees it as how it is. Life.

It's funny that I have fought for my son for the past 7 years because that is what a parent should do. I've made it my mission in life to help my son. To protect him. To help him grow and learn. Again, what every parent should do. My husband just sees it as Thomas and no more than that. He doesn't attach the "mother bear" feelings that I do. He doesn't see every challenge as a fight as I do. He doesn't blow things out of proportion about Thomas as I do.

When it comes to Thomas, my reactions are larger than for Vanessa. Not because I love her less but I know that she is ok. She is strong. She is for want of a better word "normal". I feel pride for her and I feel enormous love for her. I would stand in front of a train for her. I would die for her with no questions asked. It's the every day things that are different. I don't hurt as much when she hurts. I don't get as angry when things happen to her. I don't react as largely when she ticks me off. I know she will get through this life and be whatever she wants to be. I know she will grow up and stand her ground and be a wonderful woman. There are no such certainties for Thomas. His whole life has been a struggle against the foods he eats, the clothes he wears, the chemicals I use to clean, the school work that over whelms him, the asthma that takes his breath away, the anaphylaxis that could kill him and the skin he used to rip open. He has never had it easy.

I think that is why I see my mission for Thomas in terms of saving him. I want to be forgiven for not getting him better quicker. I want to be forgiven for not putting in the time I could or should in helping his behaviours. I want to be forgiven for feeling resentful that these things have happened to my boy. So I crusade. I lash out. I fight. I want the world to know that my boy matters to me despite my failings of him. I want people to see how much I love him and to forgive me for not doing more. How odd of me.

I never looked at it in terms of me. I don't tend to be self centered that way. I do have the gift for introspection but usually about my behaviors for certain situations. I have always carried a load of guilt about my son. That I could have not eaten peanut butter while pregnant. That I should not have gone to Florida while pregnant and induced labor. That I wasn't taller for him to have more room and not squash his head. But I never thought in terms of forgiveness. Hmmm.

So once again, my husband inadvertently teaches me something about myself. He sees Thomas as Thomas. No more no less. He doesn't think all that much about Thomas' various diagnoses. He just accepts that Thomas is how Thomas is. I think about it all the time. I fight all the time. And now I see why. I have placed too much responsibility on my shoulders for the state of my son. I have placed too much importance on myself as for the state of my son. I have placed too little acceptance on the state of my son. Acceptance and forgiveness is what I need to fight for. Acceptance for what is and forgiveness for what I couldn't change.

Darn husbands. Making us think all the time. Maybe mothers everywhere should take a page out of the father of their children's books and stop over thinking it. Maybe look at it from their point of view. It does seem a much more simple way to be. Darn husbands. Who asked for their point of view anyway ?