Father’s Day Post Mortem

Around 1:30pm yesterday, my eldest son Hudson came to where I was sitting in the backyard eating lunch and offered me a glass of Diet Coke and ice.

“Happy Father’s Day Dad,” he said, wrapping his arms awkwardly around my neck, almost leaving before completing the hug.

“Thanks Hud,” I replied quietly, moving back to my bite of sandwich.  He was gone anyway, back to his RipStick and his sleepover mate waiting in the front of our house.

I was a bit bitter about the lack of Father’s Day hyperbole from Hud.  We(we?) had also scheduled a celebration of Tasman’s birthday from 3-7:30pm on this day, so the focus was decidedly away from me and on to this event.

But whatever, accolades and recognition are not why I got into this fatherhood gig.  I actually do not know if I had any preconceptions about fatherhood back when Steph and I decided to start a family.  I knew I wanted children and was totally committed to the idea of having children with this foxy woman who thankfully married me the previous year.  But I did not read the job description as there wasn’t one. I had some tumult in my own paternal relationships, but thankfully my father and my stepfather’s strong arms hoisted me from the gaps I fell into and quickly helped me fill them with experience and, now, oddly enough, wisdom.

I recognize the power of the love I feel for my two boys.  It is something I have never felt before.  My love for my wife is equally strong, but different, as while part of me, she is not literally a part of me.  The blood does run thick and so severely and sometimes, so painfully.  Other times offers a sense of contentment and happiness and pride I never thought possible.  All from them just existing!

I also know that I am hard on myself, that I take parenting too seriously, thinking that every moment is a  freaking life lesson and sometimes shit happens for no profound reason and I should shake and spray it like a dog exiting a lake, bounding happily toward the next parental adventure.

And adventure it is.  And grateful I am.  Even sucking somewhat bitterly on the icy glass of Diet Coke I couldn’t really resent Hud for not putting more into his Father’s Day thought/ gift.  Even though Tasman took my breakfast order and showered me with attention and affection, I understand it was the age that dictated the effort, not any underlying lack of appreciation.

I am their father and that’s totally enough for me.