A Father's Gift

Fathers get a bit of a bum rap these days, right? I mean, look at any sitcom and you’ll find a lovable but bumbling dad, somehow managing to barrel through family life despite seeming somewhat, well, dim. Meanwhile, the mom is managing the household and holding down her full time job, picking up after the kids and, of course, cleaning up the dad’s mistakes all within the allotted 22 minutes.

What? I’m not saying it doesn’t represent reality.

But seriously, it’s generally the case that the mom knows just exactly how many teaspoons of Tylenol to give to a sick child (or, in the case of a certain set of twins, which child only responds to Tylenol and which one only responds to Motrin – guess right in the comments and you might win a prize). The mom is more likely the one who will hire the babysitter, fill out the school applications, and plan the birthday party (or RSVP as the case may be). We are the organizers, the task masters, the list keepers and underwear washers.

So what then is the Father’s gift? You’ll find it in the quiet moments. It’s not so visible; not so full of sighs and responsibility. It’s the patience in the voice of a man who is showing his son how to string fishing line and attach a bobber. It’s the look of awe that crosses his face when his son shows him the caterpillar, the moth, or the june bug that he found. It is heard at night through the crack in the door as he tells stories to his children in the dark. It is in the unconventional approach whether it is watching planes move across the sky instead of telling a bedtime story or taking a late night stroll to calm an upset babe. Dads care about experiences, memories, journeys – they don’t care if the shirt matches the pants or that the child needs a haircut. They let the kids stain the cabinet even if it means the color is uneven. They let the kids drive the boat because it’s in the middle of an empty lake and the kids will never forget how big they felt. They take the kids camping where they get to stoke the fire and feel like big kids as they look at the stars and tell stories around the campfire. Theirs is a unique gift – not so celebrated, but no less important.

On this Father’s day, I am so grateful to have a partner who ignores my worried looks and lets the kids drive the boat, who calmly and patiently packs up his fishing gear after having his line in for only 15 minutes, who encourages me to go away for a weekend, who quietly adds favorite movies to our tivo just to surprise me and the boys, who loves watching the basketball game with his sons cheering right along with him, who can’t wait for soccer games and t-ball, who is honestly the most wonderful man I could have chosen.

Happy Father’s Day.

Christmas Eve Conversation

Dean: Daddy, did you see this? (Shows him 2 feathers each with a heart strung onto them)
Daddy: No, they're very nice. Where did you get them?
Dean: I made them. One is for me and one is for Mommy. Do you know why it has a heart on it?
Daddy: No, why?
Dean: Because I love Mommy. She's all the Christmas I need.

Cooker Girl

I love to cook and recently I've been recording cooking shows to give me new ideas. One of my favorites is Everyday Italian with Giada DeLaurentiis. Sometimes Jack watches with me. If you don't know who Giada is (where the heck have you been?), just google her.

Or - here's a picture:She's pretty. Sometimes Daddy likes to watch with me, too.

Anyway, so the other night Tom was tucking the boys into bed and he later told me about the following conversation that he had with Jack:

Daddy: You're so lucky to have such a nice mommy. She's nice and pretty and she's such a good cook.

Jack: Well, she's not the best cook in the whole world.

Daddy: Well, maybe not the best in the whole world but she's right up there.

Jack: She's not as good as cooker girl.


It's true, you know. I'm not as good as cooker girl.

I'm Sorry

First of all, let me apologize for the half-hearted, lame post of yesterday. I know I disappointed my most loyal readers (Eddie) and for that, I am genuinely sorry.

Let me make it up to you today by showing you this:



That's Daddy's "Special Hat" lovingly made by Dean. In the last picture, Dean is singing to him. It goes a little something like this:

Daddy has a special hat
special hat
special hat
Daddy has a special hat
'cuz he's a special guy.

He wore the hat last night as he ate dinner and promised Dean that he would wear it today on the train. My kingdom for a picture of that!

Anyway, I have no excuse for last night's lame post other than it got late and so I phoned it in - literally. And, I accidentally sent before I was done. So, what I meant to say last night was . . .
the boys are completely oblivious to the fact that their Grandma is at this very moment flying across the great plains and due to arrive around 4pm. I can't wait to see the looks on their faces!

I also wanted to mention our new tradition. I've mentioned before that Dean's giving us a little run for our money. It's all or nothing with him - he's either 100% sweetness and light or 100% dark spirit. He's committed, I'll give him that. Lately, he's been a little mean. Quick to anger and lash out without trying to resolve conflict by talking it through or asking for help. I realize some of this is due to his age and that, to some degree, this behavior is normal. However, he's quick to use his fists and quick to call people names and that is completely unacceptable. So, I've really been focusing on getting him to use his words, giving him examples, explaining to him how hurtful it is to say "I don't like you" instead of "I didn't like what you did". Still, it's a constant battle. My adult brain just doesn't understand why I have to keep repeating this over and over. It's teaching me patience all right but he's the one that needs the lesson most, I think. Back to our new tradition - last night at dinner I suggested that when we're gathered together we should go around the table and say what we like about each person at the table. I went first.
Dean, I really like the way you sing.
Jack, I really like the way you whistle.

Then it was Dean's turn.
Mom, I really like when you buy me yogurt.
Jack, I really like the way you share.

Then, Jack's turn.
Mom, I really like when you buy me yogurt. (Original, that one)
Dean, I really like your stories.

So, you see what I bring to the table. Clearly, they're only keeping me around for the dairy products. Some things never change.