Your morning thought for today:
Words in haste do friendships waste.

We don't have to remind you that raising children is NOT easy. Well, today, you'll find out about Jennifer's husband and how he does a little more than just "babysit" the kids all day. It's a bit different than what you may be used to, but the "times they are a changin.." Maybe Dad can actually do a good job of it...

"Hi, sweetie. What are you up to?"
"Oh, I'm rearranging the boys' drawers," my husband answered.
"Ethan's outgrown several outfits that I need to put into Matthew's drawer. Cody's doctor's appointment is at one this afternoon. After that we'll all go to the park, then on to the store."

A typical telephone conversation on a typical weekday.

After I relayed his activities to a co-worker, she exclaimed, "You oughta rent your husband out!"

"We need to go beat him up," grumbled a male co-worker. "He's making the rest of us fathers look bad!"

When Stephen made the decision to quit his job to become Mr. Mom before the birth of his first child, he envisioned bon-bons and soap operas. I, on the other hand, envisioned in my role as Mrs. Dad, chilled martinis, ironed newspapers, and slippers handed to me as I walked through the door at the end of the day.

Stereotypes are hard to kill.

My brother once asked me a puzzling question. "So, tell me, Jenn. What's it like living the alternative lifestyle?"

Wow. I couldn't wait to tell Stephen that we were living an alternative lifestyle.

Whatever the heck that is.

I've often suspected that at some point in time a magnetic device was secretly implanted in my husband. Whenever he unloads the kids in the reception area of a clinic, women gravitate toward him. Usually the sympathetic, curious, grandmotherly kind. As if he were some abstract art form in a museum. One time, still new to the dressing game, Stephen brought the first two babies (ten months apart) to a clinic wearing jumpsuits over sleepers.

Observing this fashion faux pas prompted a woman to approach him. "Do you need help with either one of your babies while you see the doctor?"

"No, thank you," he responded, smiling tiredly. "I've got it under control."

One time our friend, Mike, wanted to know why we hadn't been returning his phone calls for several days.

"I've been busy, Mike," Stephen said.

"Why? What do you do all day?" our friend asked flippantly. "All you're doing is babysitting the kids."

This from someone, separated from his wife for over two years for obvious reasons now, and he hadn't seen his own two boys in over a year.

Stephen bristled. Just that morning he had tickle-wrestled three boys out of bed, made breakfast, put one in time-out for an infraction, cleared their closet of winter clothes to store in containers destined for the attic, kissed one owie, blew two noses, trimmed their nails (yes, on both hands and feet!), and now he was in the middle of his third load of laundry (yes, loads properly separated!). It wasn't even noon yet. Stephen counted to ten, then said quietly, "I would like to think that I'm doing more than just babysitting, Mike. Have you already forgotten what it's like to have kids?"

Mike blushed and said, "You don't need to get upset, Steve."

"Then think before you open your mouth."

One time I felt the impact of what millions of other office hubbies must feel when they try to usurp the role of primary caregiver in their wives' absence. It was such an innocent thing. I was scrambling around for a pan to cook some oriental noodles for the boys.

"Whatcha doing, Mom?"

"I'm looking for a pan to make you guys some noodles."

"Daddy doesn't use a pan. He puts 'em in the microwave."

What a punch to the ego.

Six years and four kids later, we are still embracing the alternative lifestyle. Only now, this time, I can safely define "alternative lifestyle." It's a method of walking a mile in someone else's shoes. And then another mile. And then another. Until you both see with the same eyes, speak with one voice. Only then can you fully appreciate and respect each other's role in life.

I believe it's in the dictionary.

It's a rare sight, I suppose, to see the father in the home when the mother brings home the proverbial bacon. But I do more than just work outside the home. I consider the home my other full-time job. You'll find us preaching teamwork to the kids while we practice it by doing such chores as washing dishes and folding laundry together. I see signs that our lifestyle is working. It's in the wide-eyed amazement of antique dealers when Stephen, along with two toddlers and a baby in a backpack, leave their narrow aisles intact. When our boys clean up toy corners in businesses and doctors' offices when it's time to leave.

Even our meals in restaurants are interrupted by strangers, who compliment our kids' table manners.

"Mind you, I have 17 grandchildren," one kind lady said. "And none of 'em ever acted this good in public!"

Stephen is proof that the strength of a man lies not in his physical endurance. There is a factor that sustains him throughout his journey in this life as a househubby -- he remembers what it's like to be a kid. Just the other morning, in the pre-dawn hours before work, the static of the television set beckoned me to the living room where I found the boys and my husband in one big slumbering pile on the floor, the futon surrounded by empty popcorn bowls.

Can life possibly get any better than this?

Someone once made the observation that we weren't... well, we just weren't a cookie cutter family.

We thank God everyday we're not.

by: Jennifer Oliver

You may observe their alternative lifestyle just outside Killeen, Texas, along with three boys, ages 6, 5, and 2, and their four-month-old daughter.

This story may not be reproduced in any way, without the author's written permission.

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