Fathers Day

I'm just not a fan of Fathers Day. Or Mothers Day, really.  My dad had a few redeeming qualities, but on the whole, he's an asshat.  I haven't spoken to him in nearly ten years, on purpose.  As I was growing up, he pretty much demonstrated that he (and other people) were more important to him than I was.  And, just to keep it short and simple, my real mom died when I was three. So, these Hallmark holidays have always stung a little bit.  I don't need to pay any kind of homage to my dad.

I wish I did. I sort of grieve the dad I never had.  It hurts that I'll never have a a male role model to demonstrate unconditional non creepy love to me.  I don't have a dad that thinks about my well being and tells me everything will be alright.  I don't get to cuddle up to my dad as he kisses my forehead and strokes my hair and puts my needs before his own.

The cool thing is that my husband is trying to be the dad he and I never had, to our daughters.  He even read a book called Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters so he could make sure he's doing it right. Or as right as anyone can hope to get it.  He's making an effort to be a great dad to our girls.  He gets on the floor and plays with them. He makes meals for them. He changes diapers and soothes cries, walks the floor holding a sleepless baby at 2am...without complaint.  He hangs out with them while I take a break for a few hours.  He treasures their smiles, hugs and funny things they say and do.  He journals about them. They are more important than himself to him.  We plan for their future. We discuss discipline and concerns. We co-parent. We care. I feel so blessed to have a husband who gives a shit (and more) about his kids. He's vested, interested, committed, involved, and sacrificing .  His girls mean the world to him and they will grow up knowing it.  I wish I could've been so lucky, but maybe this is even better.