Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Goin' back to Europe!

I am so excited to pack. I am really looking forward to all the craziness that goes into the trip. This time with a toddler.... more to come on that.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Fathers Day

Growing up it was the only holiday we didn't celebrate. 
We never had a reason for celebration and I never thought I cared.
As a child it was just so. I never gave the actual day much thought. It was what it was.
Now that I am grown (well, mostly) and I have children of my own, I can see what a huge deal a father is. I never quite understood how much I was missing out on. Denial? Maybe, but I was very young when I lost my father.
I knew growing up that I was missing something, like the physical being but the spirit of a father is what, I now believe, I missed out on the most. There is this presence only a father has. He's the man. 
Growing up I knew most of my friends had something I didn't. But to be completely honest, they usually had a lot more than I did anyway, so it was a feeling I was familiar with. 
On the days where they were yelled at or scolded by their fathers were the days I let rise to the top. If sadness ever reared it's ugly head, I just thought of the lame parts of what a father meant. The roughness, the intimidation. My friends' fathers ran the gamut. There were the ones that were never around. The ones that were rude and obnoxious. The ones that drank too much, or worse. The ones that cheated and left their mothers, to come back later with their tail between their legs... Then there were the ones that were super amazing, the ones that were there for the games, picked them up after school and showed up to the dance recitals. The ones that carried their little sisters in tutus and did the dishes after dinner. I would try not to hang around them too much. Jealousy never did look good on me and I knew that from a frighteningly young age.
But now... as I sit here, age 34 and completely (mostly) comfortable in my own skin, I feel sad in a way. I missed out.
My kids and I know my husband is not perfect. He is not always here, but he is never ever intimidating. He works a lot, but the only thing rough is his wild facial hair. He can't always make the games but he would never yell, he would absolutely never ever lose his cool with my children, or me. Most of all he loves me, their Mother, to his core. I am in the air he breathes and they know it. I am on his mind and in his song and they see and hear that. Their Father is not perfect. He has flaws. They are real, just like him. He spends the most precious moments paying attention to not only them but me. He is a real man, he is a happy man.
I never got to see my father love my Mother.
That is what I missed out on the most.
When my kids are grown up and starting families of their own, I know my son will walk somewhat in his Fathers' shoes. I know our daughter will know how a man should treat her and may she be wise to a mans tricks.
I find a lot of comfort in knowing that, eventually, I will be sending a man into the world who not only knows how to treat a lady but he will know what one is.
So to the Mothers out there who don't have fathers raising your kids, you have a job to do.
For the Fathers out there who are raising your kids, love their Mother.
People will debate until they are blue in the face about how you should celebrate the ones you love, your Mother, Father without the calendar telling you to do so. They say we shouldn't need a "Hallmark holiday" to tell you to be kind, be sweet, go see or call your Father on Fathers Day.
I call bullshit.
Take the help, I guarantee you need it.
Happy Fathers Day, Mom.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Well ain't that a bitch

Go ahead and try to do something nice at school. I dare you.
Go ahead and think of something creative and fun and you'll too see how quickly they turn it into shit.
I'm not speaking of kids, oh no, they are the easy part. I'm not talking about our teachers really either, I'm talking about "those people" the ones that are never happy. The ones that refuse to let something happen out of their grasp. Out of the their control? Maybe that is it. I'm sure it has something to do with it.
I am producing the talent show. With a handful of other dedicated parent volunteers, we are letting the kids fly their freak flag. Live a little. Feel the rush of nervous energy. It's what I enjoy most out of life, so why not bring it to our youth?
I have been met with mostly smiles and thanks but today marks the day of the dreaded hate email from one teacher who may not be named. Although it rhymes with "Panang".