Ice breaker questions are not my favorite thing in the world. You know those questions asked around a table in an effort to ‘break the ice’? This disdain is not drawn from my lack of wanting to communicate with people, or even from embarrassment. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve met a stranger in my life. Chatting is one of my hobbies. But I just feel ill-prepared for the topics that pop up. You get, like, ten seconds to list off your three favorite books, or favorite childhood memory. Couldn’t they email me the questions ahead of time? Then at least I could come prepared with a monologue or something.

Sigh.

All that aside, the one ice-breaking question I never mind is the old standby ‘Tell us something about you we probably don’t know.’ Because I have a stock answer. I’ve used it so often that sometime in the near future I will eclipse the portion of the question that requires the shared fact to be unknown to the audience. Soon everyone will know and I’ll need to think up a new answer. Until then, I’m locked and loaded with my response.

I’ve spent time in nursing school.

I know it’s not earth-shattering stuff. I wish I could say something like ‘I’ve scaled Mt. Everest.’ Or, even better, ‘I’m secretly a member of the Royal family.’ How I long to lunch with Kate and Megan and the Queen, y’all. #iloveallthosefancyhats

So nursing school is pretty tame in comparison, BUT it generally is greeted with slight surprise from the listeners, so this reveal gets the job done. My one month spent in nursing school came as a result of the 2008 financial recession, when banks were dropping employees left and right. Always one to need a plan, this former banker enrolled in classes that resulted in obtaining a Certified Nurses Assistant certificate at the top of my class, but nothing more. And that’s okay. I’m thankful I had a viable option for earning an income if I had needed it, and I learned a lot of valuable information.

Still, despite my prior (and short) education in medicine, I absolutely freak out when one of my daughters experiences a blip in their normally very healthy lives. If one of them passes out (it’s happened, three times!) or gets a bloody nose (too many to count), I simply melt down. When caring for real people during my nursing classes, I was cool, calm and collected. I recalled my training quickly and executed it efficiently. But none of that is to be found when it’s a beloved daughter.

This is not the case for my husband. I discovered this early on, when our first child was a newborn and began to projectile vomit in her car seat. An entire bottle exited her at a rapid pace, with such fury that I was positive something must be gravely wrong. In the span of just a few seconds, a number of possibilities ran through my mind, as I stood frozen with tears pooling in my eyes. James, on the other hand, calmly grabbed the nearest receiving blanket to catch the out-pour, and stood quietly over Olivia, cooing at her while tears welled up in her eyes, matching mine. It was over almost as soon as it started, and James dismissed my concerns as we changed her soiled clothing. ‘Babies throw up bottles sometimes. She’s okay.’ And she was. I don’t remember it happening again.

Three years later, we were in a hotel for a little staycation when I encountered my husband’s absence of panic again. Now a toddler, Olivia lit up like a Christmas tree whenever we told her we were going to stay in a hotel. We rarely left our hometown but it didn’t matter to her. She just liked to go on small adventures and pack her bag. She still does. Seeing the world is in her veins. The nations beckon her.

As we were preparing our little Livy for bed that night, her button nose began to gush with blood. The sight of red almost made me pass out, but James called for tissues and held them firmly to her nose until the bleeding ceased. While we cleaned her up, I mentioned taking her to the doctor, to which he replied ‘People get bloody noses all the time. She’s okay.’ And she was.

In the years that followed, we would have brushes with fainting and influenza and breathing struggles as a result of RSV that gave way to asthma. No matter how focused I was back in those nursing school days, I’m never able to harness the same steady calm when my girls are the patients. But my Father is in the business of making sure all the needs are covered, so our daughters have a daddy that thrives under pressure.

Parenthood is not a glamorous job. There’s a whole lot of bodily fluids and interrupted sleep and grumbling. It’s constant chauffeuring and endless, repetitive instruction. It’s affirmation and encouragement and presence. For centuries this thankless job was often carried by the mother figure in homes, while fathers carried the very heavy weight of providing. Both were necessary and demanding. Today, the lines are muddied. There are stay-at-home dads and working moms. There are homes where both parents work from home. There are families with two parents working outside the home. And there are more ‘traditional’ families, with fathers heading off to a job in a suit and mom holding down the fort at home. Though muddy lines can make messes, I’m thankful for them. Because it makes for children who see mommies and daddies who can earn an income and change a diaper. In our home, we’ve both worked for an income and parented in more-or-less equal measure over the years. And I know we’re not alone. We are in the same trenches as many of you, figuring out roles and responsibilities with the broadest view in mind, trying to share the load while we lay a the foundation that makes for the healthiest children possible. All that work is worth it.

Friends, when people talk about the good life, this is what they mean: The linking of people by legacy and history and a shared life. Not material goods or bank accounts or titles. Nope. Parenting these beauties (insert cute picture here!) and all that goes into caring for them, no matter how grueling and relentless it may be, is GOOD. Parenthood is the good life.

Rumor has it that the US holds about 70 million dads in it’s borders. Cheers to you dads and everything that makes up the dad life. What a gift that my God authored families to include fathers as the bedrock of raising up of His beloved sons and daughters.

Happy Father’s Day,
Mande