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My husband has been known to have some unconventional behavior at times. Some of it is intentional and some of it is not. I especially remember some of his earlier antics.

Men who grew up with much younger siblings are more naturally at ease with taking care of babies. Larry did not have this advantage. It soon became evident the night our friends, Jim and Sally, came over for dinner with their 6 month old child. Wanting to give my husband some practice time in handling babies, Sally handed over her baby to Larry to hold for a few minutes. He was clearly nervous and uncomfortable and didn't know what to do. When I announced that dinner was ready, Larry who is always the first in line when it comes to food, eagerly turned to put the baby down on the blanket so he could eat. Although my husband was not kid savvy, he was quite familiar with cats, particularly how they can survive falls from great heights. The fact that he was holding a baby and not a cat did not occur to him. He just didn't make that connection. Thus, Larry bent down so that he was within approximately a foot or so of the blanket and tossed the baby expecting that this little creature would make a perfect landing. Everyone stood in horror as the baby left his arms and clumsily landed on the blanket. We all stood with mouths wide open and out stretched arms hoping that one of us would be able to cushion the impact. Unfortunately, no one could react in time, but we were all quite relieved that the baby was okay and survived my husband's na'vet'.

Shortly after this episode I became pregnant. My husband and I attended Lamaze classes as most expectant parents did. One night at Lamaze class, Larry shared his theory about how he believed that this birthing thing was not as bad as women made it seem. He was joking of course, but since no one in the room really knew him, his comments were taken seriously. He pointed out that many women of other cultures often gave birth in the farm fields and went right back to work. He felt that American women were pampered too much. His saw no reason why we shouldn't just get over it and go back to work immediately. My husband was not well received that night, but he loved the fact that he could stir things up so much.

When our son was born, Larry helped by doing the housework and anything else that needed attention. He became more proficient at holding and bathing the baby, and would occasionally change a wet diaper, but shied away from changing the soiled ones. After a month of this, I decided that he needed to do his share of dirty diapers. I issued the ultimatum'. Do it or wear it! I called him over and instructed him on what to do. I did most of the work, but after that first time handling a diaper full of those little surprises, he broke out into a sweat and had to go lay down on the bed. It simply was too much for him to handle. After all the drama, he went on to change hundreds of dirty diapers. In my mind, Larry was now officially a father!

In retrospect, my husband should have been labeled hazardous material and our family has the scars to prove it. Larry had painted our bedroom just prior to my giving birth to our second child. He had not gotten around to putting the sliding closet doors back on their tracks and instead just propped them up against the wall. One morning, my husband was getting ready for work and had moved one of the doors to get his clothes. I was still asleep and unaware of the perilous situation. As he was about to step out of the bedroom, the thirty-pound door fell over giving me and my nose a wake up call that I will never forget. After the initial shock and viewing the gruesome site, I immediately gazed over at my 3-week-old son sleeping in his bassinet at the foot of the bed. He was happy and sound asleep. My nose was broken and in need of stitches. The closet doors were hung back on their tracks that day.

Leaving my husband in charge of the kids always tended to make me a little nervous. Larry often enjoyed spending time cast fishing from a canoe with our older son who was 3 years old at the time. He was concerned about safety and always made our son wear a life preserver. Unfortunately, I should have insisted that our son also wear a helmet because one day Larry returned to the house announcing that we needed to go to the hospital. He had cast the fishing hook into the back of our son's head!

Our younger son did not fare much better in his father's hands. When our son was about 6 months old, I put Larry in charge of the kids so that I could do some errands. I would only be gone for an hour. What could possibly happen? When I returned, I was greeted at the door with that all too familiar announcement that we needed to go to the hospital. My son had fallen out of a chair and cut his head.

Over the years I've learned to anticipate certain behaviors, as my husband is predictable in some respects. However, sometimes there is just no way of knowing what he is going to say or do next. Living with him is never easy, but it is certainly never dull. Helmets are a must.