As a result of being 'in the moment' I recently had to start taking Folic Acid.
You know--Just In Case. (insert wide open eyes here)
The other day, our neighbor Gregg, knocked on the door.
Apparently, he had discovered an orphaned baby rabbit in his garden.
After pondering the options and fate of the quivering animal he decided to go across the street and present this to us.
Luck was on Gregg's side, because had I been the first line of defense, the scene would have been completely different.
In ventriloquistic fashion I would have ordered him off our porch with the directive to never speak of the encounter.
But Steve answered the door.
His eyes lit up with a conspiratorial twinkle. "I'll go and get K and G."
Steve is a completely "in the moment" type of father.
If you combine this trait with his desire for his children to have fun, mixed in with his own
Peter Pan-esque quality, you have the type of lone adult you see at a backyard barbecue surrounded by kids in a raucous game of kickball, a water balloon bomb fight--or an energetic game of destructive dodgeball (he once put the imprint of his butt on our basement drywall.)
This---THIS--is also how we ended up owning an RVOUS.
(Recreational Vehicle Of Unusual Size)
But I digress.
When K, G and their friends walked in with a box carrying the frightened bunny, I called upon my own wobbly skill of being 'in the moment'.
I had not factored in baby rabbit care during my kid-free week.
(Both. Girls. Leave. For. A. Week. Of. Summer. Camp. Today.)
Upon further research, the care for a baby bunny called for feeding it some special formula every three hours with a baby bottle.
The words BABY BOTTLE jumped out at me.
I kept my inner-freakout-scream in check.
Considering my latest dietary supplement, I was hoping that this was not a sign of things to come.
Not only was I not hoping to shop for baby supplies during my planned week of quiet, but
I was also not looking forward to having the life of this feeble looking rabbit in my hands.
But I decided to keep a space between myself and my thoughts.
Lately, I have been trying to learn how to just "hold the knowing."
I did not overreact (I don't think) and instead calmly waited to see how the whole thing played out.
Steve took all the kids to the pet store, ostensibly to get supplies and instructions.
When they got to the store, the clerk advised them to turn the bunny over to the Wild Life Center where it would have more chance of surviving (I swear I did not pay this clerk).
Despite the fact that K and G really wanted to keep the bunny--they chose to give it a better chance at the Wild Life Center.
Although the Rabbit Chapter of our life started without much thought or preparation, its swift ending allowed me to suddenly appreciate the qualities of Steve that make him a great dad.
Steve's hair trigger finger on fun balances out my difficulty in being an "act now--details later" type of parent--
When these girls are old they will remember that they had a dad that played with them, a dad that had complete empathy for what it was like to be a kid, motivated them to be the best they can be, provided for a life not lacking for anything, drove the fun RVOUS (which we sold just yesterday, thus ending the RVOUS chapter of our life--which, cutting a long story short--gives me the capacity to focus on his positive qualities)
They will remember him as being able to shrug off things that might have made me crazy.
They will remember that they could always-- always-- count on their dad to alter my propensity for rigid mothering.
They will remember a dad that was dependable and consistent.
They will remember a dad that cared for his family.
Most important, they will remember that they had a father that they were proud of.
I still don't know how the Folic Acid Chapter is going to end
(will know in about
48 hoursmake that 23 hours) but what I do know is this--
If that brief rabbit fostering stint is in fact a sign of things to come (insert wide open eyes here), I have no doubt that Steve will be the best dad ever.
Happy Father's Day, Steve.