My favorite teacher

Sam is a remarkable father. (And yes, this is Sam--kind of. Stepdaughter #3 is standing behind him, providing the hair. And no, those are not his own teeth!) As a new stepmother three years ago, I was scared half to death of the prospect before me: three teenagers who have a great mother, who did not know what to make of me, and who viewed me as someone who took their father away (out of state). So I looked to Sam to help me know how to be a parent.

I was quickly alarmed by the fact that my dear husband turned into someone I didn't even know when he was with the girls. It's true that they were acting up the first few visits we had from them, but Sam the dad wasn't Sam the husband and I was awfully confused. I remember lying in bed the first night the girls came to see us, and weeping my heart out. I had only been married a few months and my peaceful, laid back husband had suddenly turned into this imperative-issuing, high-strung, LOUD man. It was a far cry from the tender, soft-spoken, egalitarian person I thought I had married. I thought to myself that I couldn't have possibly made a mistake this significant--how could I ever have known he was like this before? And I held my grief and loss of a happy future with a peaceful husband to my bosom and wept as though the world had ended.

When Sam came to bed, he found me congested with bloodshot eyes. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I thought I'd made a mistake in marrying him, but I did tell him that I couldn't recognize him anymore when he was with the girls. He was merely doing the dad thing, and since I had no corollary as a mother, it was all very foreign and frightening to me. That was a long, tough night. He didn't say a lot, but listened to me choking out my heartbreak for quite some time. He finally turned over and went to sleep, while angst and I continued on for several hours.

That was three years ago. He has mellowed, the girls have adjusted to us both, and I'm more used to the parent role. I've observed so many parents act just like him, and he's not such a stranger as a father anymore. I hear myself say things like, "Because I said so!" and "Don't even think it..."
I hear them say things to him like: "You're so corny, dad!" "Oh, puh-leeze!" "Geez, what a dork!" "Oh, daddeeee!" And amazingly enough, the girls seem to love him more with every visit. Now we live in the same region and we see them often. They keep coming back--with eagerness--to see him (and me, by default). He dances with them, sermonizes, hugs them, tells horrible puns, lays on their bed and talks with them, and sings to them while they roll their eyes. And when he tells them they're beautiful or listens to their latest student nurse stories, he beams and so do they.

Thank you for being such a good teacher, Pappi.
I married one good father.