Daddy's girl

R and I had a momma/son date yesterday. We rode bikes at the lake, played on the playground, had lunch out together, ran errands, and finished the afternoon with ice cream. He’s growing and changing so quickly that it’s nice to have the time to really focus on his stories and thoughts. He told the cashier at the store that he “likes to spend time just with his mom alone.” (He’s a heart-melter, that one). So, my husband and K had some bonding time of their own.

When I was pregnant with K, I was sure that I was having another boy. When the ultrasound tech announced that she would be a she, my husband’s first words were, “I guess we’ll be paying for a wedding someday.” Secretly, I think he was a little nervous about having a daughter. He grew up in a house with an older brother and no female cousins living close by. Girls were (are?) a mystery to him, one that I have attempted over the years to explain.

Those who know my husband know that he isn’t an outwardly expressive person. He prefers the strong-silent type routine as a general rule. That’s why it absolutely gets me when he walks through the door after work, takes one look at K’s beaming grin, and his entire face lights up. It’s like both of them have been waiting for that moment all day long.

I have noticed a general change in his philosophy as well. His daughter will not be wearing anything excessively short, tight, or low-cut EVER. She also will not consume alcohol until she is over the age of 21 (and then, only in the presence of her parents), he will approve all dates before she leaves the house, and she will have a curfew of eleven o’clock (still haven’t gotten clarification on AM or PM). I have known my husband since we were in high school, so I can tell you that his philosophies have changed A LOT since he was seventeen (or maybe just since he’s had a daughter of his own).

My sneaking suspicion though is that I will be doing a lot of the enforcing, and he will be doing a lot of the giving in. K has already mastered the “smile-to-get-what-you-want” shtick. Feminists the world-over condemn this practice, but any woman who’s really honest with herself knows she’s used it once or twice (no speeding ticket, just a warning, anyone?). And she probably started by practicing it on dad or grandpa.

A couple of weeks ago, K suddenly decided the kitchen was the place to be for whatever reason. After tirelessly moving her back into the living room for the hundredth time, my husband sternly said, “K, come back here.” Her response was to stop mid-crawl to grin over her shoulder at her weary father, throw him a quick wave bye-bye, and then continue on her way across the forbidden linoleum. Way to show her who’s the boss there dear.

After K was born, I heard the song “I Loved Her First” by Heartland on the radio, (here’s a link to the video if you haven’t heard it:  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxtK169-_L0) and in the hormonal storm that comes in the weeks after you have given birth, tears rolled. The general gist of the song can be understood in the refrain:

 But I loved her first and I held her first
And a place in my heart will always be hers
From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me
I knew the love of a father runs deep

I love the relationship that my husband and K are developing. What I hope she is learning from him at a very young age is that a real man will look out for her best interests instead of try to exploit her, and will protect her from growing up too fast. I hope that when it’s time for her to start dating, she doesn’t choose the guy in the bar (should she ever be allowed to see the inside of one) with the most polished line, but the man whose face lights up when she walks through the door.