June 18, 2007
Just for today, grant me this personal indulgence:
To the father of my children, thank you for…
The attempts to find something I could keep down during my months of morning sickness, you were so sweet running Stella Doro breadsticks and Cinnamon Life cereal under my nose with that positive, hopeful expression on your face.
Making ginger tea from scratch, hoping to curb my nausea.
Trying really hard to stay awake at the hospital while the baby was awake on her first night – and for taking that tissue box I threw at you when you did fall asleep with the perfect mix of humor and contriteness.
All those bowls of oatmeal you were able to produce, made “just right” in three minutes flat, and always remembering not to stir it. (Stirring rendered it inedible for our three and four year old)
Being a lot better at cleaning up puke than I am.
Getting up in the middle of the night with the kids on an equal basis.
All those months you took care of Baby #1 while I was puking my way through pregnancy #2.
Never, ever making me feel guilty for going away for a long weekend once in awhile and leaving you with the girls.
Continually trying to convince me that I’m the best mom that ever graced the earth.
Being the kind of dad that our children think nothing of confessing their secret crushes and dreams to.
Introducing the “Pile of Mercurios” and knowing that when things have been really crazy, putting four people on one couch with a blanket and a movie is sometimes exactly what we need.
Being the reason our kids love the History Channel, Animal Planet, Discovery Channel, and all that other boring stuff they’ll watch as intently as a cartoon.
Constructing the tree house that is the perfect size and height, despite my protestations of the opposite at the time.
Very possibly changing more diapers than I did.
Not complaining too loudly over the glitter that somehow inevitably finds its way onto your face (even when you don’t discover it until you’re at work), or over the beads you’re always stepping on. And for not having the heart to follow through on that “ban all glitter and beads from this house” thing you once proposed.
Becoming good at handling the night terrors, so I didn’t have to.
Staying up and standing in line all night with them to get monster truck drivers’ autographs because they just “had to have them” (not that I’m entirely sold they were the only ones!).
Always supporting and making me feel as though I know what I’m doing when it’s pretty clear sometimes that I’m flying blind.
Putting all three of us ahead of you more often than anyone should really have to.
For knowing that sometimes a Slurpee really does make everything better.
Being the balance, the other half, that makes it all work.
For all this and so much more, I wouldn’t trade you for the world…or even for a Slurpee!
Happy Father’s Day!
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