And Breakfast in Bed, Too

January 22, 1999

Father's Day 2007 - The Reenactment

 So today we honor those guys who are fathers, daddies, dads, pops, daddios, papas et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.  This parenthood thing is kind of a trip and after twenty years at it, I'm still not sure we're any good, but I think it's safe to say that MathMan is better at it than I am.  Well, at least he's more sane about it.  Lately I've been mumbling some rather unpleasant and unmotherly things about the children we've produced.  No, that's not entirely true - I've graduated from just mumbling about it to putting it into writing.  (Gasp! Another new writing project?  How about you finish one first!)  I even gave it a working title - Motherhood and Other Acts of Depravity.  Just little jottings here and there, you know.  Sadly, I fear it may end up being my seminal work.

Speaking of semen, I did ask MathMan recently if he thought it would be too harsh to tell the kids that they're only here because he used to like to stick his penis into my vagina and leave his DNA?  With the predictable eye roll, he ruled that yes, it would be too harsh.  He laughed though.

But this should be about him, not me.  So here it is.  Thank you to MathMan for being a great father.  You're no Alex Stone, but then I'm no Donna Reed.  Not the most demonstrative man on the planet, each of our kids still know they're loved because it's that evident when they banter and joke with you.  Especially when you think I can't hear it.  It's like music to my soul.  And I love how you respect their brains, their individuality and their beings.  It's quite something to see each of them reflect back to you your unquestioning belief that each of them will do great things and be good people.

And Happy Father's Day to my own dad who wouldn't dream of using a computer to read this, but who will one day (hopefully) be able to hold one of my books in his hand and say "So this is what you meant by writing."  That will be right before he sees his name in the dedication.  And then I'll tell him to put the book down unless he wishes to be embarrassed to death by what he might read there.  I should go now and call him and see what the weather's like and what kind of birds are visiting the feeder we gave him this time last year. And to thank him for not killing me when he had plenty of justifiable homicide opportunities.

Happy Father's Day to those of you who've left behind your own DNA and stuck around to watch it turn into something pretty amazing.  Well done, you.