I remember the days when my husband’s old ways would include baggy jeans that hung at his knees. Now he’s a Dad, gone is the lad, he wears trousers with belts and tools hanging down, 18 years with me and he’s developed a frown.
I remember when fun was a thing that was done, trips to the pub, happy hour and sun. When we could stay up, all awake and free, not like now, passed out and defeated by three.
I remember the days when he could drink more than a few, now we’re old and he’d rather a brew. Now we’re outnumbered, they’ve got us surrounded, they know when we’re weak, we need to stay grounded. Don’t ever show fear or they’ll know that they’ve won, let’s stick together on this, that’s how it’s done.
I remember sleeping in, when 9 am was like dawn, those days are long gone, since the first one was born. These days, by that time, he’s got us convinced, yep, another garden center and an internal wince. It’s only with the promise of tea we agree, but Dad has ideas of a plant buying spree.
I remember when my husband was all tech and new phones. Now he and the first born go mad about drones. He wants to be like Monty, surrounded by flowers and he tends to his greenhouse for hours and hours. He gets excited for soil, for grass and for dirt but it’s the horse shit talk I feel is the worst. So he’ll place a call to his Mum to share the big ‘whoop‘, ‘it’s a great deal Mum, two for one on horse poop!’
I remember when my husband’s car was all speakers and sound, for blazing out tunes as he sped around town. Now my husband has a truck full of mowers and blowers and the music he plays as drives here and there, Alexa’s his gal, he takes her everywhere.
I remember the days when I thought I was wild, now let’s be fair, those days are truly behind. He has more patience than me, of that I am sure, so I know things are bad when he heads for the door. The kids have gone wild, they’ve been locked up all day, but Dad has a plan now the sky isn’t grey. ‘Outside you lot, to the garden we go, there’s watering and potting and seeds to sow’ and as Dad stands tall, holding the door, cries of children are heard ‘please Dad, no more!”
I remember us laughing about his future role as a Dad, now the jobs that we do just make us sad. Put the bin out, change the nappy, feed the chickens, get the coal and when you’re done with that, don’t forget, set the trap for the mole.
Then when it gets dark at the end of the day with the kids tucked up in bed, where we pray they will stay. He toddles off to his garden, his outdoor man cave and when he returns he’s had a brain wave. Lets grow more plants he exclaims, more flowers and herbs, then clutter the place and put them here and on there.
I remember thinking how my husband is sly, at the whiff of a nappy he says his goodbyes. It’s urgent he says, he really must go, he has a truck full of rubbish, a garden to mow. It’s OK I’ll tell him with a sneaky smile, the next one is all yours and then I’ll run a mile.
My husband is crazy, he goes mad with the kids, they do all the things that boring old Mum forbids. He throws them and tosses them up in the air, they chant for more, they don’t have a care. They’re brave and they’re wild, they’re just like you, three members in total are in Dad’s crew.
And now as they sit and they color and craft, all for the man the girl has dubbed is ‘so daft‘. I can’t do much else as I stare at the mess and they announce with big smiles “this one’s for the Dad who’s the best’.
Happy Father’s Day to you.
