nose hair man
Friday, July 31 When Shawn and I first got together four years ago, Middle Son, who was eight at the time, had a special name for him: Nose Hair Man. I’d put the boys to bed, cuddle up with Shawn on the couch and Middle Son would appear at the top of the stairs, hands on hips, eyes narrowed and say in a voice one might reserve for a nursing home robber, “What are YOU still doing here, Nose Hair Man?”
Nose Hair Man was beyond patient, unflappable really, and would even comment on the cuteness of the fact that Middle Son would miraculously appear between us any time we hugged each other saying, “Step aside. If my mom needs a hug, I’ll take care of it.”
Oldest and Youngest Son both liked Shawn from the start, but Middle Son made up for them, perfecting the art of nastiness towards him over a period of months until I’d finally had enough.
“Look,” I whispered one day, pulling him into another room. “It’s fine if you don’t like Shawn. You don’t have to like him.” At this, Middle Son’s eyes widened. “You really don’t,” I continued. “But you do have to be nice. You DO have to treat him with at least the basic decency you would anyone who comes to visit.”
Middle Son’s lip quivered ever so slightly, just before his face crumbled and he began trying not to cry. “But I do like Shawn,” he said.
And because I know my son, I could tell he wasn’t lying, and that the closest I could come to knowing what it was like inside his world was that he was feeling really conflicted. And sad.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I figured it out, though. We were having a birthday party for Middle Son and had invited both Shawn AND his dad. And although the two had met before and been friendly enough, Middle Son had never seen them together at a family function. At one point the two were at the table, telling stories and laughing, and I could see Middle Son looking at his dad, then Shawn, back to his dad, taking it all in.
That’s when it hit me: Duh! Middle Son felt it was a betrayal to his dad to let someone else in the door and heaven forbid, like him. But if his dad could accept Shawn, maybe he could too. I can’t imagine how these things get sorted out in houses where ex-spouses and new partners are awful to each other in front of the kids, because this is wrenching stuff even under the best circumstances. I don’t exactly know how this happened, but Shawn and the boys’ dad have raised the bar high in terms of acceptance and graciousness towards each other, and the boys benefit from it every day.
Anyway, it wasn’t long after the birthday party that I came home from an errand and found Middle Son watching TV with Nose Hair Man, his head resting on his lap. I fought the urge to raise my fist in the air, and instead chose the wiser option, pretending it was perfectly normal for the two to share real estate on the couch.
That Valentine’s Day, I asked Middle Son if we should buy Shawn a nose hair trimmer, which we would wrap and present with a card. (In case you’ve never seen one of these contraptions, it’s a terrifying little pen-shaped tool with a motor that weed-whacks the forest that grows out of your nose while you sleep unaware.) Shawn was as thrilled as anyone might be to receive a nose-hair trimmer on Valentine’s Day, and we had a family bonding moment passing it around and shoving it up our noses with the motor on and laughing, like we were The Waltons at a glue-sniffing party. Even more touching was the fact that we rescued Shawn from his bachelor-look, zapping what could only be described as pre-pubescent tusks defiantly protruding from his nostrils.
Nose Hair Man helps middle son up and over a rock while climbing around in Zion National Park, March 2006.
Honestly though, one of the coolest things about Shawn —this man I married with no previous children — is that he’s never been pushy with the boys about bonding with him. As far as their relationship goes, he spends time with them, does his best to be good to them, and beyond that, it is what it is. And ironically, that approach has gotten them all to a pretty great spot together.
Middle Son looks up at Shawn while we exchange wedding vows, June 2007. Photo By Deirdre Eitel.
Just last week, before the boys left for their annual three-week trip to Minnesota with their dad and grandparents, Middle Son hesitated at the door after the goodbyes. “I love you guys,” he called.
“We love you too,” I said.
Then the room was quiet, but I could see Middle Son still hovering there as if he had more to say. “I love you, Shawn,” he said, for the very first time. Then, “I love you like a really, really close uncle.”
Middle Son called to check in just the other day. Turns out they’re having an amazing time, running around like feral boys at their dad’s boyhood cabin in northern Minnesota. Just before I hung up Shawn said, “Wait!”
“Hold on,” I told Middle Son.
“Tell Middle Son I love him.”
“Did you hear that?” I said into the phone.
“Yeah,” Middle Son said.
“Tell him I love him like a really, really close nephew.”
Shawn and his stepsons out cutting a Christmas tree this past December, 2008.
Reader Comments (3)
sounds like shawn is a hell of a man. you are lucky. :-)
That's just the best story! It made me laugh and cry! Warped fairy tale quality, I love it!
Thanks Laurie! Warped fairy tale sounds right on the mark :)