Upon returning home for a visit with my mom and dad, our first as husband and wife, I discovered a very different dynamic. My father, an early riser, likes to kick the day off with exercise, a cup of coffee, and a few of my mother’s homemade muffins. Rich, my husband, also gets up early, but on this particular morning, it seemed like some kind right of passage.
Long before 8 a.m., a ruckus broke out. I lay dreaming, when I heard yelling and a long winded debate ensuing. Over a muffin and a cup of coffee, my sweet, kind-hearted husband turned into an O’Reilly quoting, fist pounding, politics spewing clone of my dad. Could it be the muffins or had I been tricked into marrying my father?
Soon there after, the ranting got louder. It was like some kind of a debate, each having there own time at the podium to add or lend more information to a topic that seemed so benign in the newspaper that morning.
When I finally emerged from slumber, my husband was pounding a glass of Pomegranate juice, another one of my Dad’s little tricks for cholesterol lowering. The muffins were demolished, each with a wrapper and crumbs in front of their place settings.
This was certainly a slippery slope and I had warned my husband not to delve into any controversial topics with my father. Dad did have a way of convincing you; ultimately, it had something to do with the “loudness factor.” The louder he was the more he thought you would listen, and listen you did.
By the time we left my parents house, my husband was eating Oatmeal Crisp cereal, with flaxseed, blueberries, and soy milk, just like my father. He was leaving his dirty little cereal bowl in the sink, exactly as my father had done for years. We packed off for the airport with a cooler of organic blueberries, copies or every article about heart disease my dad could find, flax seed, and apparently some marching orders.
I found myself wondering, what had just happened? Had my father and husband forged a bonding ritual over muffins? Why wasn’t I invited? Was this a guy thing or some kind of hazing? I guess I will never know.
Ultimately, I was glad to hear my husband holding his own, as I know my dad only taunts people he likes. So, here’s to the “Muffin Men” in my life, may they debate on for many years to come!
