You've come a long way, Daddy

My father-in-law is the proud father of five children. But I don't think he ever changed a diaper -- just like most fathers of his generation.

He also never got up with his kids in the middle of the night if they were sick. He didn't take anyone for their immunizations. He didn't deal with bad dreams or hurt feelings. And, even through five very well-documented babyhoods, I have yet to run across a photo of him spooning anything into a child's mouth.

That's not to say that my father-in-law was a bad father. My husband, Brent, actually has many fond memories of playing with him, talking with him, and just spending time with him. He just didn't do any of the dirty work, so to speak, when it came to taking care of the kids.

How things have changed in a generation. Brent has changed thousands of diapers. And not just any thousands of diapers. Brent was always called in to handle the particularly nasty and explosive ones, which left me gagging and crying "uncle" in a corner. He also always manages situations that involve vomiting. He has held the kids for every shot, pinned Mike down for X-rays, and when Peter was an infant, force-fed him barium for an upper GI test.

Brent handles nearly all of the dirty work when it comes to our kids mainly because I don't have the stomach (in the case of cleaning up bodily functions) or the heart (when it comes to holding kids down for medical tests and shots) to do what needs to be done. But Brent's parenting skills go way beyond his iron stomach and iron resolve.

I have yet to see Brent staring off into space, dumbstruck by the kids and their idiosyncratic behavior, wondering what in the world to do in a situation as I am often found. Brent actually likes going to the park. And Brent, born into a big family that talks over one another, has an extremely high tolerance for the noise levels that accompany small children. I, on the other hand, like to engage the boys in "The Quiet Game," which has rules that go like this: "Let's see who can be quiet the longest!"

Brent is also infinitely more patient than I am, and patience is something of which you need loads when you have a couple of small children around. Sometimes when completing tasks with Mike and Peter, I toss my head back and groan very dramatically in the style of someone who is waiting in the rain for a bus that never comes. Of course this never makes me feel better and it does little to improve the situation for the boys.

For instance, when trying to teach a three year-old Mike to ride a tricycle, I remember saying to him with my jaw clenched, "Can you tell me, exactly, what is so difficult about PEDALING?" To which Mike replied, "I never want to ride a bike again."

Brent, on the other hand, has spent hours of his life running next to Mike as he has weeble-wobbled on the sidewalk with graduating levels of bicycling, with Brent announcing, "Almost! You've almost got it!" And Brent barely winces when Mike crashes into him yelling with excitement, "Dad! This is the most fun I've ever had on a bike!"

With Brent, fun seems to be the operative word. Whereas I like to stick to schedules, good nutrition, and impeccable hygiene, Brent has been known to take the kids to the park where he lets them play for hours with little regard for our regular bedtime hour. Then he will feed them Dairy Queen for dinner - right in the car - without using the hand sanitizer first. Blasphemy!

But the boys love it. And they sure adore their dad.

Of course Brent isn't perfect. He always forgets the sunscreen. He never brings jackets for the kids in case the temperature suddenly drops. He gives them doughnuts and suckers and ice cream cones for snacks. He has been known to engage in rather juvenile behavior at the dinner table, making me fear that the rest of my life is going to be one big whoopee cushion joke after another - even after the kids move out to attend Harvard.

Lots of parenting experts say that today's dads are staggering blindly through fatherhood because they didn't have good role models to be such hands-on parents. Yet an overwhelming number of dads I know are getting it exactly right, which is certainly the case at our house.

Anybody can remember to bring the sunscreen or change a diaper - even one that is oozing from the sides; for goodness' sakes, I can even do it if I turn my head and hold my breath. But it takes someone special to always be there and to always want to be there on so many levels - whether it's to hold a leg steady for an x-ray or to steady a wobbly bike. Happy Father's Day!