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"Dad? . I mean, . Mom? Can we go shopping and ice skating today?" My four-year-old daughter asks as her brown eyes grow with excitement.
"First off, Michael, .I mean, .Kathy, ." I tease, "I need to feed you breakfast, then the day is ours."
"Daddy makes great breakfastes-s. What are you making?"
"Oatmeal."
"Oh," Kathy frowns.
"What's wrong with oatmeal?" I ask, my lip curled in a perturbed manner.
"Um . nothing . nothing, really," Kathy tries to be a junior diplomat.
"How ëbout cinnamon toast instead--I'll get daddy, he'll fix it", she nods quickly.
Such is a typical conversation on a Saturday morning with my two children, Kathy, four, and Michael, one. Even the dog doubts my domestic abilities.
Our Black Labrador puts his ears back and trots out of the kitchen as I try to start the gas stove with a small match.
I make it a point to give my husband the day off on Saturdays. Three years ago, we decided to switch roles. Ken became a full time house dad, I became a full time Sales Promotion Manager for cable television. He took on his role with confidence and flair. He managed the perfect balance of household choirs and personal interests. In between laundry, cooking, cleaning and driving Kathy to school, he still had time to work out at the gym every day and do the grocery shopping. Ken works part time on the weekends as an on-air radio announcer. In between his work, he does all the household choirs .pay the bills, manages the family, buys groceries, fixes the screen doors, repairs the wash machine, takes the dog to the Vet, and does all the yard work. He totes our two children around everywhere he goes.
In March, we moved to Chicago from Columbus, Ohio. As I commuted on weekends back to Ohio, Ken put the house up for sale in Columbus, kept Kathy in school, watched Michael during the day and still had time to work out every day. Now that we are in Chicago, you would think we were back in the 1960's. None of the women I talk to her (or the men for that matter), can believe that I am married to a man that voluntarily took on the role of house husband. Furthermore, none of them believe that he has taken on the role 100%. I thought this was the 90's.
I am so proud of him and double proud of the progress the children have made as a result of his being the primary caregiver. His patience is unending. A week before we move into our new house, my daughter displayed a picture of our new home in Chicago and described everything in they yard, her new room, and the neighborhood. "How did you know all that?" I asked. "You haven't even seen it yet."
"Daddy told me and I just knew it," she shrugged.
In the meantime, Michael and Ken sit in the living room together and Ken quizzes Michael, "Where's your nose?" Ken asks. Michael points to his nose, then reaches up to pinch Ken's. "Good!" Ken exclaims supportively, "how about your ears?" Obediently, Michael, grabs both of his ears. "Right!" Ken smiles approvingly.
"When did he learn that?" I ask sheepishly.
"Oh, we have been working on it a few days," Ken replies casually.
"That's terrific!" I said. At the same time, I say a short prayer to God thanking Him for allowing us to switch roles with such success. I watch with great pride as my children run to Ken to wrestle a bit before going to the breakfast table. Ken has been the center piece in our family .the super glue that has held together all those incidental things that man families take for granted. His strength, self confidence, spirituality and patience are the key to our wonderful life as a unit .as family.
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