(Stuff Alex Does) - Hubby Observations

Several weeks ago Alex was working in the evening writing a letter of recommendation for one of his students, a senior girl that I happen to know well also, and I had this idea - what if Alex wrote a letter of rec for me? What would he even say?!? He could angle this several ways - as a former supervisor (technically he was the Assistant Editor to my Reporter position at the Sierra Sun/Tahoe World newspapers); as a character reference, someone very, very familiar with me; or even as my spouse (would he even recommend me to someone else romantically?!?) And then I wondered exactly what I might say about him (you know, just a moment to step away from my narcissism). I pay such close attention and track everything that the Bean does, and was thinking how interesting it might be to shift that focus to my husband. To notice all the funny, adorable, or noteworthy things that he says, does, is. So I attempted a social experiment of sorts, with an effort shift my perspective and become as mindful of my husband as I am of my Bean. He does, in fact, make me laugh, too. A lot. Then again, maybe I'm just easy for a giggle.


***
Alex is my very favorite playmate.

Stac is a close second, of course, but Alex wins by a narrow margin. He is without a doubt my favorite person to laze on the couch and watch TV or a movie with. But also to go to the playground with. Or to hike or snowshoe. Or to drink coffee. Or eat out. Or to go for a bike ride. Or camp. You get the picture.

***

Alex is mostly easy-going and up for anything.

And the times when he is more rigid in his thinking is usually just an adjustment period. Especially with my family, there's always bound to be some random adventure, errand, chore, or activity. Take this picture, where he is wearing the traditional cap his mom got him in Ireland a few years ago. And he's sporting his tartan Pendleton. Because we are at a Robert Burns supper. Don't know what that is? I didn't either. I just agreed to go with my dad. And it turned out to be a blast. Weird, but fun. And of course Alex was game, too. Fortunately Francine has got her parents sense of novelty and adventure.


***
Alex is a good, beloved teacher.

On Tuesday Alex, Francie and I went to dinner in West Linn, after I met with some SLP colleagues at a clinic nearby Alex's work. We ate at a family-oriented sports brewery, devouring our fatty fried food like good Americans. When the waitress brought the bill, she handed it to Alex and asked, "Are you a teacher?" Alex stuttered a bit and told her, yeah, he's a teacher, why? "Another table has paid for most of your tab."

What?!? That's never happened to me. I've never been the fortunate recipient of those Starbuck drive-thru pay-it-forwards I read about. Then again, I've never initiated one either (it's on my Bucket List, for the record).

Turns out a former student of Alex's was eating dinner with her dad just a few tables away. She tells me that he was one of the best and favorite teachers she had in school, and her dad thanks Alex for all that he does.

Alex was palpably embarrassed, but I was touched. Both by the generous financial gesture, but also by this family's kind words. Plus, it's so fun to see my man in his element, and to see how much his students love and respect and admire him.


***
Alex is funny, especially when it comes to embracing the 16-year-old male that lives inside every husband.

One weekend morning the three of us are laying around in the master bedroom in our PJs, enjoying a lazy wake-up. "I'm having sex with you in my mind right now," he tells me as I bust up laughing.

***

Alex is a proud feminist, even before having a daughter of his own.

The Bean has become enthralled with princesses and Disney and fancy dresses and lipstick and gum in the past month or too, despite our limiting her exposure to certain "girly" media for her first few years of life. The other week she asked me, "do you think I'm as pretty as those princesses?"

I didn't know how to respond to this, instead inquiring about what made the princesses pretty (the length of their dresses, apparently; the longer the prettier). I text this to Alex, in part because it's funny, and in part because he'll be concerned by it. Turns out when he received my text he was reading an essay written by a female student who's struggled with disordered eating and perfectionism. This later prompted a conversation with our girl about all the possible things she can do or be or enjoy, and that our true worth comes solely from within, no matter what.

***
Alex is SO passionate, both in theory and in practice, about being a supportive outlet for marginalized students.

In just 5 or so years as a teacher, he's been involved with disability awareness clubs, volunteer coached for a multicultural soccer league, advocated for the LGBTQ community, and recently took on a new position to support/instruct the few English Language Learners at WLHS.

Last month he was dedicated and successful in making actual change for not just an individual transgender student at WLHS, but for all students within system as a whole. He was able to make a difference in the feelings of safety and support of the identity of this student by demanding the district change her name in all the IT records and have the teachers call her by her preferred name.

A few months ago I realized that this "Unified Soccer Team" that he volunteers with is actually a Special Olympics team, and he is their very adored coach. The Bean and I attended the Special Olympics soccer tournament one weekend at Providence Park, and it was only then that it occurred to me that this is what he's been doing. Like, duh (hit forehead Homer Simpson style). I'm the asshole and my husband is practically a saint. At least, in the social service sense of the word (never mind his extracurricular activities).

I adore this juxtaposition of a relatively "basic" heterosexual white dude who thrives on supporting otherwise marginalized teens - those of color or poverty or alternative sexual orientation or gender identity or with special needs, in an otherwise white/wealthy/straight/traditional/high-aspiring school district. This man who has lived a privileged life - a loving upper-middle-class family, successful athlete, well educated. A stereotypical "popular guy" if you will, with a pretty traditional life experience. It's as though he knows to channel the power his privilege has provided him, and he uses his "attractive straight white man" voice to speak for those who otherwise aren't always heard well. And not in a "white savior" kind of way, because he knows that's a systematic problem, too. There's something sexy, to me, about being duplicitous in a Superman kind of way. Like his easy admission into the "Boys' Club," and then talking empathically about the struggles of a student rather than who won the Duck game. Or schooling his colleagues while skiing on the mountain (until he tore his ACL), and then doting on his toddler daughter. There's something about his seamless code-switching between the world of the popular and of the marginalized; it provides him more opportunity to advocate for those who are not readily accepted.

I think he likes the paradox, too. And the challenge. The same way he likes that I present as a yuppy blonde goody-two-shoes, but then I have tattoos. Or how he likes to wear a nice suit and his Chuck Taylors/skate shoes. Or when The Bean wears a fancy dress and then wants to play with tools in the basement.


***

Alex is great at dead-pan one-liners; when I laugh, I often remind myself of the way my mom laughed at the (crazy, bizarre, off the wall) things my dad said.

Laying in bed one night, him fast asleep before me yet again, he mumbles, " I have to pee. I wish I was wearing a diaper."

***
Alex also laughs at my jokes. Which is part of the reason I think he's funny, is because he thinks I"m funny. Isn't that funny?

Me: "You look handsome," I tell him, gesturing with my hand to his whole ensemble as he was leaving for work. "With the start of your beard and your black rain jacket and all that. Your face looks really good in grey and black."
Him: "Thanks. Love you guys."
Me: "And your butt looks fiiiiiiine in those lady jeans," I laugh, poking at his obsessive self-consciousness that the Levi's I bought him last Christmas are in fact women's pants. For the record, they definitely are not.
Him: "Ugh! Why did you buy me fake lady Levi jeans from Mexico?!? It's the start of my transition, I guess."


***
Alex loves the way I look, and he's not afraid to tell me.

We have been together nearly 10 years now, and he still compliments my body on a near-daily basis. Despite a decade's worth of "ugh"-like responses from me, unclear how he can see something so entirely different than what I see when I look in the mirror.

When changing from my towel into my PJ's at night before bed.
"Ugh," he groans. "It's the worst part of my day. When you put on your underwear."
"Haha, gross. But why?"
"Because it dashes my hopes of getting laid."

Or when, yet again, I'm naked in transition from my sweats to my clothes, and he tells me: "It's like what I dreamed about as a 14 year old boy. That I would get to just hang out with a naked woman all day."

For the record, it's not as though I'm naked all day. In fact, I'm very rarely naked, except when I'm getting into or out of the shower and have a sudden overwhelming compulsion to pick up my room. I get more done in the 3 minutes the shower is warming up than I do in the rest of my day. It's kind of like when we are already running late to some appointment or event and I am inspired to do that long-neglected chore or task at that very moment.

***
Alex is so sweet when he's sleepy. He reminds me of a little kid.

He's laying next to me in our queen-sized bed, his bedside lamp still on, but his eyes closed. It's only 9:30 p.m., and I'm nearly always the first one to go to sleep.

"Are you going to sleep?!?" I ask him, surprised that he's not reading, too, and that he would pass out before me.

"It kinda feels like it," he says, pulls the lamp switch, and rolls over into a snore.

***
Alex is kind of a babe, and I'm not the only one who thinks so.

While I was in Denver last Fall I got a text from our family friend, Patti, whose now 20-something kids I nannied for back in 2000. Her family lives in West Linn, although her kids never did attend high school where Alex teaches, but they are very connected to the community and have many friends/neighbors who attend WLHS, or previously did.

Let's just say I feel totally flattered when anyone, teenaged girls included, take a liking to my man. He, on the other hand, is 2% flattered and 98% worried about being "that guy." The one who all the students only like because he's nice or an easy grader or younger than some of the other teachers. Or he worries about some crazy teen girl crushing on and inferring things that just aren't there. In other words, he worries abut Teenaged Me.

***

Alex is a shy extrovert, which makes for an interesting combination.

He possesses this curious mix of social anxiety and FOMO. First of all, he can get along with anyone. ANY.ONE. And he is definitely a favorite among the people who know and love him. For example, he's always seemed to me like the golden-child-funny-guy to his entire family, the whole extended Irish/Italian Catholic lot of them. And then there's his college/soccer buddies. He's not exactly skilled at maintaining friendships, but I can tell they adored him in his prime. Like they didn't want to ever have to party without him. And now, many of our friends started as my friends, and I think they all like him better than me. My family definitely likes him better than me. And he's hands-down a favorite of his high school students, even being voted "distinguished teacher" last year and speaking at their senior graduation.

Interestingly, even surprising to his parents, is his level of anticipatory social anxiety, even with his family or closest of friends. He gets kinda twitchy and a little bit crabby with me before social commitments, and only in the last several years has he determined that it's social anxiety. We can see some of the same mix of extraversion+shyness in Francine as well.

***

Alex is like a golden retriever.

If we were dogs, I'd be a husky bitch and he'd be a sweet golden retriever or lab. No surprise here when I tell you those are exactly the dog breeds we have each grown up with.

He's easy in that he has some basic needs - food, water, sleep, sex, TV, beer, fresh air and exercise - and then his higher-level needs include positivity, praise, the occasional home-cooked meal, and hugs on demand. I love this about him. For the most part, when he is sad or mad or tired or hungover, the Bean or I can shower him with some love, and he's game for life again.