Every day when I pick up baby girl from school I ask her the same questions: How was your day? Did you have fun? and What did you guys do? The majority of the time her answer to the last question is a simple, “I don’t really remember.” She can tell me all about what games her and her friends made up during recess and who she talked to while waiting at the car loop, but it takes a lot of digging to find out what they did or talked about in her Kindergarten class. However, fast forward a few days, or even a week, and little snippets of what they’ve done come out in casual conversation.

With Martin Luther King day being celebrated early last week, it wasn’t until the weekend that we were able to find out more about what she learned in class regarding the man behind the holiday. Of course, as is customary for my baby girl, it wasn’t a straight “here’s what the teacher told us” conversation. The information almost always comes out in things she says or does; she also has a habit of surprising me at the most unexpected moments. Here’s a glimpse at a couple of conversations we had over the weekend that were sparked by her class’ discussion of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

No More ‘Whites Only’

“I’m glad the ‘white only’ signs are gone mommy,” she said as she was watching TV and I was changing baby boy’s diaper.

“Me too baby.”

“But, what happened to the babies?”

“What do you mean sweetie?”

“Well, since people with dark skin couldn’t be in the same house as people with white skin, what happened to the babies with dark skin? Did they take them somewhere else?”

“No! They stayed with their parents. If the babies have dark skin, then that means the parents did too, right?”*

“But, what about baby boy and I? You don’t have dark skin, but we do. So, pretend the ‘white only’ signs were still around – what would happen to us?”

“You don’t think I have dark skin?”

“Well, it’s more like tan.”

“Ok. Well, they didn’t separate the babies from their parents, sweetie. They all stayed together in their house. And, actually mama, if we lived back in those days, they would have thought I had dark skin too, just like you.”

“Oh, ok.”

*I realize this statement is not completely true, but I didn’t really want to get into an explanation of genetics with a 6 year old.

Love Drives Out Love

She sat at our dining table drawing a picture as I fed her little brother. When she finished she showed it to me as she normally does.

“What does this say?” I asked her pointing to the words I had already read, but wanted her to explain.

“Love drives out love.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Well, at school they told us that Martin King-”

“Martin Luther King?”

“Yes, Martin Luther King said ‘Hate does not drive out hate, only love does.’”

“Ok. And, do you know what that means?”

“No, no I don’t.”

“You guys didn’t talk about it at school?”

“No.”

“I see. Well, what he was saying was that if someone has hate in their heart, to give them more hate, by being mean or violent, is not going to take that hate away. You have to show them love to take their hate away.”

“Ohhhhh…”

“Do you really get it?”

“I think so.”

“He believed in being peaceful. He didn’t think you could make someone who has hate be better by being violent. You needed to show them love and be peaceful to help them change.”

“Like the people that wanted the ‘white only’ signs!”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Ok. Well, I was trying to say love brings more love. Love drives out love.”

“I get it. That’s a very nice thought baby girl.”

It always amazes me how much farther her mind takes things. She’ll always have a follow-up question. Or she’ll think of varying scenarios and wonder ‘what if’. She loves to explore and imagine. This is a good thing. It will help her empathize and understand the world better as she grows.

Discussions on race will no doubt continue in our house for a long time. As she learns more and more about this country’s history, she will come home with more questions. It will take a long time for her to fully grasp all that was, all that is, and all that may be. And, that’s ok. I’m still working on it myself.

Top photo by Tim Krepp

Photo: Melissa Audrey

Last week, my mami fell ill and was in bed for a day and a half. Since my dad has dementia, he’s unable to help in such circumstances. Thankfully, my Tía (aunt) was staying at my mom’s house and was able to help mami out a bit before calling me to come over on the second day. I rushed over and took my mom to the doctor. The day turned out to be a long one full of running back and forth around town, so Tía decided to buy take-out for dinner for everyone. She kept stressing to me to be sure that I ordered some extra food to bring home for my husband. She said, “I know you’ve been running around all day and haven’t had time to go home and cook.” It was very thoughtful of her, really, but this led to a couple of other conversations which now make my husband and I laugh.They are true examples of the cultural differences we deal with in our marriage and the lessons I inherited from my not-so-modern-thinking (ahem, old-fashioned) parents.

The “Quieres comer?” Syndrome (Do you want to eat?)

That same night, my husband ended up meeting me at my mom’s house. As soon as he walked in the door, Tía began to let him know about the food we brought home for him and also let him know of extra food there was. It was something along the lines of “We got you chicken, but there’s some pork here too. There’s also plátanos [plantains], bread, and more beans if you need more.” My husband was taking a moment to hold our baby boy for a bit and talk with our daughter first before sitting down to eat, so he said thanks and continued with his daddy moment. About five minutes later, he again was reminded about his food and this time, warned that it might get cold. This is typical of any day he goes to my mom’s house, regardless of whether it’s my mom or Tía (as was the case this time) doing the “sit down and eat” routine. This is also typical of many Latino households who no doubt will ask you “Quieres comer?” and urge you to sit down and eat the minute you walk in the door.

No Permission Needed

Still another incident occurred that same night. As my husband checked on my mom to see how she was feeling, she said to him, “Thank you to you and Melanie for everything today.” My husband quickly responded by saying, “I didn’t do anything! I’ve been at work all day. So, thanks to Melanie.” As he walked away, my mami says to me in Spanish, “Hay que darle gracias a él también por dejarte.” (I have to thank him too for letting you.) I immediately snapped at her saying, “Letting me? Mami, I’m not asking for permission!”

My Day Involves More than Just Cooking

The next day, I was back at my mom’s house and took her to another appointment in the morning. By the afternoon, I saw that my mom was settled, had help from my Tía, and was going to take a nap for the afternoon. So, around 2:30 pm, I began to say my good-byes and announced I was leaving. My Tía asks me, “You have to get home to cook, right?” After the comments from the night before, I was already irritated with the abundance of old-fashioned thinking regarding cooking, marriage, and my role as a wife. So, this new comment added to the fuel. I politely responded to her, “No. Actually, I need to get home so I can get some work done.” In my mind, though, I was thinking, “Really? Is cooking all that is on my family’s mind? Who in the hell starts cooking dinner at 2 pm, anyway?“The irony was that at the same time, my husband was busy ordering pizza for the night since he was off from work early that day. (Our daughter had previously declared it to be pizza night that day.)

But, I was so aggravated at the moment that I momentarily forgot that this is the way my mom and aunts were taught. This is the custom and the manner in which they believe they need to take care of their loved ones. And, there’s nothing wrong with that if it works for them.

Reflecting on Costumbres (Customs)

Earlier this week, I approached my mom and laughed about the comments with her. I told her how my husband and some friends of ours reacted upon hearing these stories. She explained to me that her abuela taught her and her sisters to be this way. They were taught that they should have dinner ready by the time their husbands came home from work.She said many women even cook a heavy meal by noon in order to eat an early dinner. Mami further explained that her abuela would say, “Si puedes, come tú primero antes que él llegue del trabajo. Así, si él llega enojado y no quiere comer rápido, tu no te quedas átras sin comer por esperarlo a él.” (If you can, eat first before he comes home from work. That way, if he comes home angry and doesn’t want to eat right away, you don’t get left behind without eating while waiting on him.)

I was amazed by all this. While my mom taught me to cook and did emphasize the need to “take care of” my husband and family, she also didn’t take it to the level her abuela did. I suppose with every generation, customs remain, but also evolve. I am actually very grateful for the lessons my mom gave me. There are many great values in the way she raised us and how she grew up that I can now take from and make my own. And, while I will teach my daughter and son many of these same customs, they will be tweaked to accommodate our current style of living. They can each then take the lessons from my husband and I and make them fit their lives should they have their own families one day.

What customs or old-fashioned lessons did you inherit?

When we moved to Florida from Puerto Rico, I was eight years old and already one month into third grade. I left behind the private Catholic school that had just begun to accept girls as students that year and came to a standard public school in the city of Orlando. My first day at this new school, I experienced what I believe to be my first encounter with racism.

It was during PE class and we were playing volleyball. I am not sure exactly how it happened or what caused it, but what I remember is that out of nowhere this little boy on the other side of the net screamed out to me, “Why don’t you just go back to Africa?” I remember clearly staring at him and wondering, “Why is he telling me to go to Africa? I’m from Puerto Rico!” It wouldn’t be until many years later that I would fully understand the meaning of what was said to me.

People often say things like “It’s hard to believe that in a year like 2011, we still have discrimination,” and ask my husband and I questions such as “Do you really feel discriminated against?” We’ve had discussions with friends explaining just how prevalent discrimination still is, even in 2011.

Reading The Headshake on Latinaish got me thinking about the various times either my husband or I have gotten looks. It tends to happen more when we’re together, than when I’m alone. Normally we get looks when we’re out and about shopping. It’s because they think we might steal something. Here’s how the scenario usually plays out.

As we enter a store, a sales clerk will typically greet us, though this isn’t always the case. We will begin to browse and will get the customary, “Can I help you with anything?” line. After we politely say, “No, thank you. We’re just looking,” the clerk doesn’t really ever leave. The majority of the time we are followed around, the clerk always keeping a few feet of distance between us. As we look around at other customers, though, they are not being watched so closely. Interestingly, this used to happen a lot more when my husband had his hair in dreads.

Now, I used to work in retail, particularly in shoe stores. I was given the training materials that say the best way to avoid theft was to greet each and every customer, alerting them to the fact that you are aware of their presence in the store. I also had to deal on several occasions with managers that would ask me to follow certain customers around the store – solely based on their appearance as they entered the store. So, I am all too familiar with the practice.

I don’t claim to have lived a hard life full of discrimination. By all means, that is definitely not true. I lived a rather sheltered life of living in the suburbs with a middle-class way of life. Compared to my husband’s youth, I have nothing to complain about, really. He has endured way more discrimination than I have. Yet, even with the sheltered youth I had, I was still greeted to the United States with a “why don’t you go back” attitude, literally.

What does this mean for my kids? They are both biracial, multicultural, and with different shades of brown. As I look around my daughter’s preK classroom, she is the only one with dark skin and one of two Latina girls in her class. There is another little girl whose mom is from China and the rest of the kids are White. While I know this is a reflection of the neighborhood we live in, I have to wonder how often she will be the “token” girl as she grows up. How will she be treated? Will she ever have to deal with someone telling her to “go back” even though there’s nowhere for her to go back to?

Other articles worth reading:

• Curly Hair is Beautiful Too! How Everyday Conversations Become Life Lessons in Our House.
• Brown is Not Enough
• I’m White, My Daughter is Latina, and I Buy Black Dolls

There’s really no better way to expose our children to our Latino culture than to travel with them to the place where we — or our family members — were born. We try to travel to both Peru, where I was born, and Puerto Rico, where my husband was born, at least once a year. We’ve only had the fortune to go to La Isla del Encanto once during the holidays. And, while that was almost two years ago, the experience was so full of culture that I decided to write the following post.

It’s 2:30 in the madrugada and the rooster won’t stop crowing. I thought this only happened at the break of dawn! What is going on? It was okay the first few days, but after all the late nights celebrating Año Nuevo and the first days of 2009 and just life in general – as they do on this beautiful island on a regular basis – I want to kill the stupid rooster. But then, I remember how Vanessa’s face lit up when she first heard it the morning after our first night in her father’s homeland, Puerto Rico.

“Mami, cucha! Ki-ki-ki!” — she instructed me to listen unable to contain her excitement.

For the first time in her short life, she was hearing the sound of a real rooster just outside her bedroom window. Later on, after she got dressed, we went outside to take a look at the culprit, and we were all surprised to see not only one, but two roosters, a bunch of hens, and about ten tiny chickies.

My husband’s family lives in the northwest part of the island and even though we’re staying in a recently constructed community, it’s still el campo. So — to my daughter’s delight —our next-door neighbor is somehow allowed to raise these farm birds. And even though I’m annoyed (to put it lightly) with their crowing at ungodly hours, I have to admit nothing makes my heart sing more than not having to explain to my daughter what it means to grow up en el campo.

A celebration like no other

The night before Reyes Magos — one of the biggest celebrations of Epiphany in any Spanish-speaking country I’ve ever had the fortune to experience — we were awoken in the middle of the night by a parranda at a neighbor’s house. This is basically when a group of friends armed with maracas, guitarras, güiros, palitos — among other instruments — gathers quietly in front of a friend or family member’s house late at night and when everyone’s setup they start singing and playing typical música navideña de Puerto Rico, waking up the household members to the sound of music, loud music. This goes on for a while and then the group and the members of the house move on to another house and so on, until the group is small no more and they reach the last house around 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning.

The night in question, we were all startled by the festive music. Vanessa woke up and asked: “Qué eso?” To which her father responded: “Una parranda!” And she immediately started dancing! What can I say; she has it in her blood… Anyhow, a few minutes later, and because I had never heard or seen a live parranda — and since you only live this particular life once and we were already awake — we decided to check it out. So, in the middle of the night and in our pajamas, we got in the car and took Vanessa to experience her first parranda. When we got there, my husband explained that it was probably the last house because of the amount of people and the smell of asopao — a kind of typical chicken soup that has to be served by the last house to receive the parranda.

We weren’t there long — and I don’t know how much of it Vanessa will actually remember — but I’m glad we did it. It is so much better to teach our kids about our culture through actual experiences…

What are some of your favorite cultural traditions? What do you do to teach your kids about them? Why do you think it’s important to keep traditions alive?

An Emmy-award winning bilingual freelance journalist, Roxana A. Soto was born in Lima, Peru, but has lived in the U.S. most of her life. She worked in print and TV for years, but went digital after having her first child and realizing there was little information online about bilingualism. In 2009, she co-founded SpanglishBaby — the go-to site for parents raising bilingual and bi-cultural kids. Roxana is married and has two bilingual and bi-cultural children.

Today is the first day of National Hispanic Heritage Month. Unlike other heritage months, where an actual calendar month is dedicated, Hispanic Heritage Month runs from September 15 – October 15 each year. This year’s theme is “Heritage, Diversity, Integrity and Honor: The Renewed Hope of America” and because my husband and I are big on our daughter learning about her heritage this is a great chance for us to expose her even more to her Latina half.

There are several events happening locally to celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month in Orlando, as I’m sure there are in many other cities across the nation. I’d also like to do some learning activities at home with her and will check with her preschool if they are planning to include anything in their curriculum during this next month. Of course, there are plenty of sites with activities, lesson plans, and information to help me celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month with my preschooler. Here’s a few you can browse.

12 Resources to Celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month with Your Kids

Lessons for Hispanic Heritage Month from Education World

Offers 12 activities to begin exploring Hispanic heritage. A brief description of each activity is provided, along with the appropriate grade-level.

Hispanic Heritage Month Resources from Colorín Colorado

Provides activities, information, ready-to-use tools, as well as lesson plans and book ideas.

Hispanic and Latino Heritage in Books for Children and Teens

Lists a variety of reading lists, award-winning books, and articles featuring books for children and teens that focus on Hispanic and Latino heritage and other themes.

Hispanic-Heritage Resources for Teachers (or parents)

Though this site was written with teachers in mind, any parent can use the lesson plans, printables, activities, and references provided.

Celebrate Hispanic Heritage on NickJr.com

Includes various activities, ideas, and recipes featuring NickJr.com characters – perfect for preschoolers.

Hispanic Heritage Month Book List on PBS

List of Spanish-language or bilingual books to share with your child.

Celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month with Maya & Miguel on PBS Kids

Celebrate the contributions of Hispanic Americans to the United States with Maya & Miguel of PBS Kids.

Hispanic Heritage Month Party on Playhouse Disney

Throw a party to celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month with Handy Manny! Page includes recipes, games, activities, and party checklists.

Celebrate Hispanic Heritage from Scholastic

Information on Latinos in history, famous Latinos, and Hispanics in the Americas.

National Hispanic Heritage Month Activities from Crayola

Coloring pages, crafts, and ecards to enjoy with your children.

Hispanic Heritage Teaching Resources from Smithsonian Education

Lots of resources, including information on carnivals and masks, Latino families, music, and art.

Hispanic Heritage Free Resources from Gale

Includes Spanish-language eBooks and a range of resources to help users study and celebrate Hispanic Heritage.

Do you plan to celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month with your child(ren)? What are some activities you plan to do?

You know how a lot of women say they dreamed of their wedding ever since they were little girls? For me, I would think about my Quinceañero. Ever since I learned about this tradition and knew that I’d have a choice of celebrating with such a party, I knew that I wanted one. I’d sit and think about what I wanted the room to look like, what kind of dress I’d wear, and who’d be there, much like one does when preparing for a wedding.

My two older brothers had been provided with a trip to New York City to spend the summer with family when they both turned fifteen. When my turn came about, I too was given a trip as a choice, or I could have a Quinceañero to celebrate my birthday. I chose the party.

What is a Quinceañero?

Similar to the American custom of a Sweet Sixteen, a Quinceañero (sometimes referred to as a Sweet Fifteen) is a celebration of a young girl’s fifteenth birthday and signifies leaving childhood behind and beginning the journey towards womanhood. It is celebrated in many Latino countries in different manners, but is generally a rather festive occasion.

By the time I was turning fifteen, we were no longer living in Puerto Rico – in fact we had already been living in Florida for seven years. Even still, my parents and I wanted to keep tradition alive and so we set to plan the biggest birthday party I’ll ever have.

Back in 1995, there weren’t a lot of available resources for planning a Quinceañero in Orlando. Though there were quite a bit of Latinos in the city, the community wasn’t as large as it is today. Even with a few challenges, we were able to find a proper venue, an event planner familiar with the celebration and traditions, and everything else we needed to pull off the party.

Traditionally, in a Quinceañero, the birthday girl will have an accompanying court – akin to a bridal party – that consists of fourteen girls, aged 1 to 14, signifying each year of her life. There are also escorts for many of the girls, particularly the older ones. However, being that back in 1995 we did not have a lot of family living near us, were not living in Puerto Rico, and I did not have many Latino friends, we improvised. I had several of my friends be the girls in my court and only had one male in the party – my own escort.

However, even with some necessary improvisation, we maintained many of the traditions of a Quinceañero. I wore a traditional dress and my court and I did the formal procession. Additionally, my father and I danced the traditional dance to Julio Iglesias’ song “De Niña a Mujer” (From a Girl to a Woman) and the rest of the court danced a waltz. My father also changed my shoes from slippers to heels, in a very Cinderella-like fashion – a ritual that as you can guess means the girl is now a woman and no longer a girl.

Looking back on it, it was a very beautiful night and I’m happy to have participated in something so symbolic and full of tradition. I now have many memories to share with my daughter as she grows. The fact that I celebrated when I turned fifteen with a Quinceañero instead of celebrating a Sweet Sixteen, provided me with another link to my heritage. It was another way of keeping my Latino culture alive even while living in the United States.

I look forward to sharing this tradition with my daughter when the time comes, showing her pictures of my own Quinceañero and providing her with another choice – one that will allow her to tap into half of her heritage, should she choose to do so. My husband already asked her a few weeks ago, “When you turn 15, would you like to have a big party or get a car?” Can you guess what our 4 year old responded? “A party.” Of course she did – she’s just like her mama!

Have you ever heard of the Quinceañero tradition before? Did you have one yourself?

I had a nice, quiet, lazy weekend. One where I pretty much unplugged the entire two days. I had a lot of hang out time at home with my family and we rested – no going anywhere or errands to run. It was actually really nice. I think my body and mind needed it after the traveling I did this month and it seemed to be enjoyed by the husband and baby girl as well. Her and I even took a nap together.

The only thing I’m regretting about this weekend is that I didn’t go visit my parents. The last time my baby girl and I saw them was the weekend before. It’s harder to visit them during the week since the week entails a busy work/school schedule for all of us. So, it’s much easier to visit on Saturdays or Sundays. Since we didn’t visit this past weekend, it’s now a little over a week since we’ve seen them.

And, the guilt sets in.

Why is it that even though we had a very nice weekend, I still manage to have that one little thing that is pulling at me? I’m content with how we spent our time, but feel guilty that I didn’t carve out time to go and visit them. Since many of us play so many roles – wives, mothers, daughters – I am wondering if this is a “woman” thing. I know that men also play multiple roles, but for some reason, I don’t see many men stressing if they go over a week without talking to or seeing their extended family. In fact, I know a few who can go over 3 weeks without talking to their parents.

In our Latino culture, family is ultra, mega, important. In my immediate family, we don’t make it a habit of not talking to each other for extended periods of time. Actually, I think I’m already pushing the limits by not having a daily phone conversation with my mother; I usually talk to her every other day. And like I mentioned, we often see each other on at least a weekly basis, if not more – she does live only 15 minutes away from me.

So, does anyone else who lives close to their parents struggle with this? How do you keep the guilty feelings away if you happen to concentrate on yourself or family and don’t include your role as a daughter/son for a few days?

I’ve been asked a difficult question.

I was asked to write about what it means to me to be a Latina.

To be honest, I had never really given it much thought until now.

I mean, do people normally go around thinking, “What does it mean to me to be a woman?” Or a man? Or do Americans think to themselves, “What does it mean to me to be American?”

It’s just who you are. It’s you. To me, it’s much the same.

Being Latina is a large part of my identity. To be specific, being Puerto Rican is really a major influence in who I am.

I was born in Puerto Rico, but we moved to Florida when I was 8 years old. Although I’ve spent many more years in Florida than I did in Puerto Rico, my parents made sure to maintain our culture in our house. I was raised pretty much the same way I would have had we stayed in Puerto Rico. (Ok, like 90% since obviously there are outside influences from school, friends, etc.) But, my parents spoke Spanish in the house (and still do), we listened to Spanish music, we ate Puerto Rican food, and I was taught values and traditions that are important to our culture.

All of those things helped to make me who I am. However, being Latina is not just a matter of “I listen to Spanish music,” or “I eat rice and beans.” That is not what makes me Latina.

To me, it’s more about the overall culture, values, traditions, and beliefs. It’s about understanding why family is so important to us. Or understanding why my parents believed that as the youngest sibling and the only girl, I couldn’t do some of the same things my brothers did. And, how about the fact that now that I’m older and my parents are aging, I must understand why my father prefers to speak with my brother (who lives in Milwaukee) about his health issues than with me who lives 10 minutes away?

These may seem like trivial points, but if you understand the way our culture operates and the overall mentality, it’s easier to understand why these things happen the way they do.

So, what does it mean to me to be Latina? It means a rich culture, deep values, traditions, pride, and an overall appreciation for yourself and your family.

What does it mean to you?

Baby girl: “Daddy, you need a haircut.”
Husband: “Do I?”
Baby girl: “Yes, but not too much. Just a little off the top. You don’t want to be bald because then people would laugh at you.”
Husband (after some laughter): “Well baby, I don’t really care if people laugh at me. If they laugh at me because I’m bald, then they’re not good people, right?”
Baby girl: “Right.”
Husband (to me): “Man, every conversation these days turns into some great life lesson, doesn’t it?”
Me: “Yeah. sigh…”

And, it’s true. There seems to be no shortage of conversations we’re having with our 4-year-old these days that turns into some greater message or life lesson.

If she says anything about curly hair, there we are reinforcing the idea that “curly hair is so beautiful!” If we’re talking colors, once again, my husband and I pipe in like a PSA ad to say, “Don’t forget black! Black is such a pretty color.”

To some of you, this may seem a bit unnecessary or even extreme. Why do we continually have to say these things? Why not just let her live her little 4-year-old life, right? But, the truth is that when you’re raising a multicultural child, you have to constantly look out for signs and provide the proper message to your kid. She is surrounded by dolls, ads, friends, and other images that are not like her, so it’s up to her father and I to surround her with images and messages that are like her and remind her that she too should be admired.

Photo by Rashod Taylor

And, it’s not just the media we’re up against. Even family members can be culprits – without really recognizing the side effect. Just a few weeks ago, my own mother said, “Ay no! That will make her hair more curly!” when my husband said he wants to braid (corn row) my daughter’s hair. Once again, there we were saying, “There’s nothing wrong with curly hair!” It’s even difficult for me at times, to be sure I’m sending the right message to her. I have to catch myself from saying things like, “I like my hair better straight,” since I don’t want her to perceive that straight is necessarily better.

It can get exhausting at times to always be thinking about what you’re saying/doing/watching and whether or not it will affect your impressionable 4-year-old’s self-esteem. This is even more true if you’re in what’s considered the “minority” group of society.

In a way, though, all of these conversations are also helping me to feel better about my own self. Who knew that by trying to ensure my daughter grows up confident, in turn, I would help myself feel a little more confident in a body I’ve known for 30 years?

Additional thoughts of mine on multiculturalism:

• Brown is Not Enough
• Barbie Dolls and Columbus Day. What’s the Connection?

My husband is a very attentive father – always has been since our daughter was born. He is known for making up silly songs and stories with our 4 year old. He’s also not afraid to don a fancy feather boa and tiara – whether attending a tea party or just playing dress-up. He also takes good care of our daughter and I can always trust that if I’m away, she’s in good hands.

Now, this may sound like nothing out of the ordinary to you. He’s her father. Of course, he should be attentive and caring, right? While I agree, it seems to be something that surprises many friends and family members. My mother has often been told, “Your son-in-law is a really caring father, isn’t he? So-and-so’s husband doesn’t play with their kids like that!” They are surprised to see a father doing, well, what a father is supposed to be doing – playing, talking, and interacting with his kid.

Apparently, not many men do this with their kids? Or perhaps, only the men in my immediate circle of close friends and family? Maybe it’s just a cultural thing?

I know that growing up our father was very much a provider. He made sure our family was taken care of, but I don’t really remember him playing with me. My papi is the definition of an old-fashioned Puerto Rican man and to this day I am not able to talk freely with him – with the exception of finances. Finances was something he made sure to teach me. How to balance a checkbook? He was all over that. Talking boyfriends? Eh…you better go talk to your mom.

On the contrary, I can see my baby girl being fully comfortable in sharing information with her daddy about her first period or boy trouble. At least, I hope their closeness remains through those years and that regardless of how he may feel, she’ll be able to come to him as much as me.

But, in these early preschool years, I’m baffled as to why my husband’s fatherly behavior is perceived to be so rare. Why are so many women surprised to see him go beyond the “goofy-dad” role and see him actually nurturing, caring, and tending to her?

Do you find that men you know are hands-on fathers or play more of a supportive background role?

Photo provided to Melanie by Mariana