Iron Fist in a Velvet Glove

 

Despite both of us having science backgrounds, my wife and I share a leaning toward the artistic, though we may express it in different ways. In her life, my wife has been a painter, a poet, a singer, an actor, and a fiction writer. Not to mention a mother.

I don’t remember what precipitated this event, but my wife, my son, and I were at home in the front room. My wife was responding to something my son said. She said, “remember, you get half your brains from me. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be a complete idiot.”

To which my son started howling with laughter and said to me,” I think you have just been insulted.”

Sometimes I feel like Rodney Dangerfield. I get no respect. But that is not an uncommon state of affairs for fatherhood. When my son was going to middle school and high school, my wife was always the one to go in with him to get him registered for classes. One time she was unable to go and I had to be the one to get him registered. “Ugh,” he said. “why can’t Mama do it?” I explained that she could not this time. He gave me that look that intimated I did not know anything, and this would be a disaster. It was more or less true. I didn’t know anything, but somehow, we got through it.

My wife is a force of nature. A friend of mine once described her as an “iron fist in a velvet glove.” That may be a bit of a stretch, but she can be formidable when she wants to be. That’s a good thing. Not that she’s perfect – but, we won’t get into that now (she might read this!)

We have a good partnership. We have each migrated to our own domains. I don’t mess with the areas where she is the expert, and she doesn’t mess with the areas where I am the expert (okay, there may be a bit of cross-contamination, but it usually doesn’t result in a major conflict).

All in all, I think I won the lottery by finding my wife. But what did she get in return? Well, maybe it is best not to ask those questions. At least she is not complaining, and neither am I.

Star Liner