My husband and I are in a new stage of our lives. We both have had the pleasure of celebrating the milestone of 40 years on this planet. Our age is starting to show little by little. My beautician works hard to cover up my grey hairs, while my husband has decided to embrace the grey in his beard.
We have been together long enough to have fuzzy memories on when events occurred in our relationship. When was that vacation to Florida? When did we move to this house? Sometimes the photos on our phones help up us date things, and other times we have to come to a consensus.
Our kids are maturing as well. They are at the stage when they both need deodorant and no longer shop in the children’s clothing department. In a few months, we will be parenting only teenagers.
There are things I can no longer do now that all of us are older. I haven’t been able to lift my children in years. Sure, I can maneuver my daughter with special needs when duty calls. The days of piggyback rides and cradling my sweet kids to bed are long gone.
My dear husband cannot resist my sweet daughter when she lifts up her arms and says “Dad.” He knows what to do. He picks her up, even though she’s no longer the light toddler who started this tradition. She laughs and smiles broadly. Then she brings her face close to his and clings to him.
I smile before I reprimand them both gently. I remind my husband that he isn’t a young man. I understand why he does it, even though his back is at risk with every lift.
This is their routine. They both love it. When full conversations are not possible, physical touch is a wonderful way to connect. This is a way their relationship has continued after certain things have stopped.
When my daughter hit puberty, there were specific aspects of her care that he was no longer comfortable with nor knowledgeable about. Just like typical parent-child relationships, theirs had to evolve over time.
My husband shares his love of the band Skillet with our daughter. She requests “Skillet” whenever she enters his truck. She tries to navigate the playlist to find the right song to match her mood. He taught her to use a pen or a flashlight stowed in his cupholder as a pretend microphone. She caught on quickly and decided it made her singing more meaningful.
At home, my daughter requests that her dad put her to bed. They do a short chat and prayers before he places her bi-pap machine on for the night. If I come in the room, she jokingly orders me to leave. I try not to infringe on their time, but I curiously listen to see what happens between them that she enjoys so much. When her daddy works the nightshift, I do my best to replicate their bedtime routine. I’m often too tired at this point in the day to be playful, and I realize that this may be the difference between the two of us.
There are some things that daddy just does better. That’s fine with me. My daughter has both of us pouring into her life. We both have our own way of connecting to her, loving her, and spending time with her.
The next time I hear her funny giggle, the one that only comes out when her daddy picks her up, I’ll be thankful. She has a father wanting to please her. I’ll save the reprimands for something else.
Evana is a wife and mother of two children. She enjoys serving in her church’s special-needs ministry. Evana is also a pediatric speech-language pathologist and serves children with autism, feeding disorders, and other developmental delays. You can connect with Evana on Twitter, Facebook, and her blog, A Special Purposed Life. You can also read more about her family’s story in her book, Badges of Motherhood: One Mother’s Story about Family, Down syndrome, Hospitals, and Faith.
Subscribe now on your favorite podcast app!
