Page 226 of True Blue

Now, he’s a full-time dad, staying home with the kids while taking commissions online for custom drawings. He is the greatest father to our children and still the most wonderful husband.

We have bumps, but those bumps aren’t terminal. We still continue therapy every month, which I think is important with how demanding and stressful my career is.

Especially now that I am Chief of Medical Oncology at Bluewater. I’m not only seeing patients anymore. I’m supervising other doctors, which means my hours sometimes stretch longer than planned. But our children have their father there for them, picking them up from school, packing their lunches, cooking dinner, and helping with homework.

And I make sure to carve out time for them and attend every game, event, and parent-teacher conference that I can.

Families look different. Our children understand that. But they understand most of all that families love each other, and that their parents truly love and choose each other every day.

I glance into Teddy’s studio and see that he’s started a new painting, likely a commission for a client. It looks like an ocean landscape with a lighthouse in the background, and I smile at the progress. At how talented Teddy has become through consistency, confidence, and the steady belief that he was always allowed to want more than what his parents decided for him.

“Baby?”

I follow his voice into the kitchen, where Teddy is at the stove, giving our son a firm look. Little Teddy is sitting at the island with a basket of unfolded kitchen towels on the chair beside him. His arms are crossed, his lower lip pushed out, and I instantly know he’s deep in one of his stubborn moods.

My son and my husband—an unstoppable force, an immovable object.

I snort, and it catches the attention of both boys.

Immediately, their faces change and both of my Teddys beam.

“Mommy!”

I smile at my little boy and drop a kiss on his head.

“Hi, Little Bear,” I say, wrapping my arms around him. “Squish.”

“Squish,” he giggles, squeezing me back just as tight.

“There she is,” Teddy says, turning the burner down before coming over to me. “Hi, honey.”

My husband is forty-two and still as handsome as he was the day I saw him, just with a little more gray at his temples and in his beard.

“Hi, Teddy bear,” I smile, tilting my chin up for his kiss. “Missed you.”

“I missed you,” he murmurs before glancing back at our son. “Back to folding.”

“But, Dad,” Little Teddy whines, dragging out the word. “I want to watch TV!”

“And you can watch TV when you’re done folding towels,” Teddy says patiently. “It’s your chore this week.”

“Why can’t Ella do it?” he snaps, stubborn.

“Because Ella had folding last week. This week, she vacuumed, which she did when we got home. The longer you wait, the longer it takes before you get TV.”

Standing back, I watch with pride as Teddy expertly navigates our son away from a tantrum with calm logic. Then Little Teddy turns his adorable pout and shimmering eyes on me, expecting me to overrule his father.

That’s another thing we learned in therapy—always a united front.

“Little Bear, you know I’m going to give you the same answer as your father,” I say, raising my eyebrow. His pleading face turns grumpy again, this time directed at me.

“Do not give your mommy that look,” Teddy says, crouching in front of him. “Fair is fair, Teddy. Your sister did her chores, so you have to do yours. Just like Mommy does hers, and just like I do mine. If you didn’t do your job, then who would have to?”

Little Teddy’s expression softens.

“You or Ella or Mommy.”

“And is that fair?”