When it Matters Most.

As a child it seemed as if my mother never got sick. On the few occasions in which she did allow a cold or the flu to keep her bed ridden, I often worried that things would fall apart in the house. My mother cooked dinner every night. She did laundry for everyone in the house. She helped with homework. Heck, she even made my bed! I was reminded of this, this past weekend, when my wife, who much like my mother seemingly never gets sick, did just that. With my national board application looming, and two 16 month olds nearing bed time, my wife called to me from the couch on which she was laying and said she was “heading upstairs”. It was 6:30. on a Saturday. Crap! The boys wouldn’t be a problem. For all intents and purposes at this point, ages 10 and 5, they can entertain themselves for one night. But those girls! My loving, affectionate, devilish, tornadoes wrapped in the flesh, twin girls, they were another issue altogether. Don’t get me wrong I’ve put them down for bed before, but sometimes they like to pretend that they’re allergic to sleep, especially when mommy’s not around. So there I was, looking at my self, through my own 10 year old eyes, much like I looked at my dad and wondering “How’s this going to turn out?”
But what I remembered was that my dad always seemed to step up in those moments. We’d have fried chicken or gumbo or something else he could make reasonably fast (I’d forgotten that my dad was a pretty good cook, because he so seldom did it). He’d run to Rite Aid to get mom some Theraflu-Alka-Seltzer-Hot Tea with Lemon and Honey and tell her to drink tons of Orange Juice. (BTW, it works, I swear by this whenever I’m sick). He’d clean the house, usually with the radio blaring (and of course by clean, I mean neatly stack things into piles, that my mother would go back and actually organize once she felt better). Then we’d usually watch tv until we fell asleep. So what happened to me on Saturday?? Well first I fried some chicken and made mac-n-cheese and fed the kids. Then I sent Kaleb and Noah to their rooms to clean up (which can occupy them for 6-12 days at a time, its a disaster area in there). The girls and I watched Dora and Yo Gabba Gabba, while I washed dishes, straigtened the living room and swept the floors. Then I made milk cups, turned out the lights and laid the girls down for bed. As if they knew I needed there help, they fell asleep almost immediately, and I was able to work until 2 am on my National Board entry.
It's funny how much of our childhood experiences we absorb into our own beings as adults. Noah had asked me earlier in the day, “Dad, what was Bunny’s (his grandfather/my father) favorite color?” I responded, “I don’t know Noah, I think it was Blue”, to which Noah replied, “Nope, I think it was Red”. Maybe it was Red. That’ll be part of his mind’s memory of my dad. My memory will be that when it mattered most, my dad always came through. And this weekend, I think he would have been proud to see what I learned from him.