Hands-On Hubby

Hubby was a man ahead of his time.  During a period when women were fighting for "equal rights" he was encouraging me to get my education and hunt a job.  The logic of two salaries instead of one was easy for him to figure out.  When I landed the job of County Extension Agent neither one of us knew that it would be a day and night job.  With a six month old child we both were thrown into the world of baby-sitters, feet first.  About the same time he managed to buy a rough, hillside farm out in the county.  It was a 20-30 minute drive, which he made after working all day running an office for a lending agency for farmers.  Soon we were running baby-sitters in shifts as he went to the farm and I went to night meetings. 

To keep from breaking the budget and in spite of careful scheduling, we sometimes would wind up with one or later two children in tow.  Since cows are a little more understanding of a child's disturbances, hubby would often head out to the farm with the kids.  He has always been a hands-on dad and a totally focused businessman which has caused more than one chuckle and astonished expression on those he would meet.  He once had stopped on the way home to call on a client about a loan.  They were deep into conversation when the baby demanded a diaper change in no uncertain terms.  Without missing a beat he whipped a diaper out of the pocket of the truck door, spread the baby out on the hood of the truck and proceeded to "take care of business" with both farmer and baby.  The farmer laughed later that he wrapped up both the baby and the loan in record time.

Remember, this was 40 years ago when daddies didn't do much child care.

One of his favorite stories concerns a trip home after a fun afternoon at the farm for all concerned.  Our son had been dropped off at a neighboring farm to play with their little boy and he had taken our daughter on to "help" him.  After a happy afternoon of following daddy around and playing in the tobacco patch, creek, mud holes, and finishing off with a spell in the fine dirt of the barn floor, she looked a lot more like a small pig than a little girl.  A situation that was pretty common after a visit to the farm.  For that reason we always dressed the kids in "farm clothes".  These were cheap, usually dark colored, and totally replaceable if they were destroyed.  We were old friends with dirt.

On the way home they stopped at the neighboring farm to collect our son.  The farm wife approached the truck to say hello and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw this filthy, totally happy, little girl sitting in the seat.  "Oh, my goodness!" she yodeled in shock.  "What happened?"  Hubby looked back at the truck in confusion.  "Nothing.  She's just been playing."  Before he had the words out, the farm wife had grabbed the dirt covered little girl and started for the house.  "You can't take her home like THIS!  What would your wife say?  I KNOW she would be HORRIFIED!"  (You see, most people never saw me except dressed for work in a suit and heels.  They didn't often see me covered in mud-or worse-after working cattle with hubby. So I guess they thought that I never got dirty and would be offended by it!)  In nothing flat the child was in the tub being vigorously scrubbed.  The wife soon returned  the bemused child, wearing her older daughter's underpants, which covered her from chest to knees and were held up by safety pins.  Her muddy farm clothes had been rinsed out and carefully wrapped in a grocery bag.

Hubby politely took both child and offending clothes, loaded everyone in the truck and laughed all the way back to town.

He's a rare treasure.