Father's Day

Tomorrow is Father's Day.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaay. Not.

I'm not a huge fan of the parent-themed holidays, to be honest.  Mother's Day makes me feel almost as miserable as Father's Day and misery isn't exactly a fun state to find oneself in. 

This will be the third Father's Day that F's father hasn't been around. He's missed seventy five per cent of Father's Days in his son's life. It's a thought that should make me furious, but it doesn't. It makes me really, really sad. F doesn't deserve that.

This will be the third Father's Day in F's little life that I've worried about my son not having a man to look up to. I worry that he doesn't have a man to walk with him through the ups and downs of life, and while I try my best I know I can't replace that male influence. 

He once asked me to show him how to stand up to pee and that just ain't gonna happen.

As F and Little play out in the living room, I hear Little talk about how his Dad will be back in a few days and F says "Well, *my* Dad will be back in a few days, too!" and I know that we'll have to have that conversation again.

The one where F asks when his Dad is coming home.

The one where I explain that he might never come back. The one where I have to tell F that I just don't know. The one that leaves us both in tears, with an aching heart. The one I never wanted to have, and yet the one that I have regularly now. The one that I will have more and more as he grows up and realizes that our family doesn't look like his friends' families. 

And for all the sadness I feel, I feel so much love and joy and appreciation that both F and I have my Dad. We have Uncle Allan and Uncle Buddy. There's Uncle Nelson and Uncle Johnny, Uncle Gordon and Uncle George. We have Uncle David and Uncle Edwin. We have my brother, Devin, and my friend Evan. 

Although we lost F's Dad, we have many strong, wonderful men in our lives and I hope they all feel a little bit of our love tomorrow. XO

Words

I lost my words for the past few weeks.

I'm not really sure what happened - perhaps I was just too tired, or maybe it was all the stress I've been feeling lately. Whatever the cause, I think it's finally gone. And that makes me really, really happy.

Know what else makes me really, really happy? This guy.

Last night, after a great walk and play date with new friends and after I had finished writing the first blog post I've written in weeks, F and I curled up together with a soft blanket well past our bedtime to chat. The nights of just F and I are on hold for a while, you see, as Little is coming to stay with us once again. 

F suddenly sat up, very concerned, and asked if we had remembered to put the chocolate milk back in the fridge and I couldn't help but laugh out. It was so unusual.

F is rarely concerned about issues like whether the milk is in the fridge or the light was turned off before we walked out the door. He probably couldn't care less most of the time. So, after reassuring him that the chocolate milk was, in fact, safely stored away in the refrigerator, I snuggled him a little closer and told him I loved him.

But why, Mama?

And then it hit me: I tell him all the time how smart he is. I tell him I love him. I tell F all kinds of nice things, but I never back it up - which is pretty silly, because there are millions upon millions of reasons why I love him, why he's smart and how he's a great guy. So I started telling him.

And it turned into a little game.

"I love you because you are thoughtful and funny. I like the way you think about things and ask questions so you can learn. That's why I think you're so smart."

"Mama, I love you because you do fun things with me and take care of me. And I like that you play with me a lot and we go for walks and you buy me toys all the time!"

I got a little teary-eyed hearing F say some of the things he said, and it made me realize how grown up my little boy has become. In a lot of ways, he's much older than four - he regularly helps me get dinner ready (as in, he MAKES the salad) and we have grown up conversations more often than not. It was the perfect end to a day that had gotten off to a poor start.

And the next time he's acting his own age, throwing a toy at me or trying to pull the cat by the tail, I'll savour that moment and try to wrestle him into the pants he doesn't want to put on, just the same.