An Ode of Love to My Baby Daddy
Today, I woke up early to let you, my love, take a day of rest. And I did not mind one bit, because you deserve a day to bask in daddy-hood, to sleep in and rise to a happy child saying "Happy Father's Day!"
And I hope it didn't sting you that Remy got confused and said "Happy Birthday!" and then "Happy Mothers Day, daddy!" before remembering "Happy Father's Day." The words aren't the thing (though they are, they are, I know) it is the knowing you are the one other parent in your child's life and that that fact matters because you, as daddy, matter.
It is the knowing that the sun and moon and stars hang in the sky of our child's dreams and in your wife's love and that you are secure in your placement.
I hope you know this, my love.
It is in the doing and the loving that you are celebrated for fathering, always and ever. That you're the dad he needs and the dad we cherish.
Fathers get the short end of the gratitude stick in our culture (the short stick mothers get is fodder for another post). Dads are parodied as inept and childish, but my reality is so very different: my baby daddy, you are so amazingly adept at this grownup thing called parenting. More so than I, truth be admitted to publicly.
So, here is a ode to you, my love, my more-morning-bird-than-I, who wakes up and makes breakfast, packs up lunch and comes home to (more often than not) make dinner, too.
Thank you for trusting flighty me to be your baby mama (and for sticking with me through the hard times trying to conceive). Thank you for holding my body up when I crashed on the rocks of birth and then through the hardest times of my life, post-partum.
Thank you for being willing to do whatever it took to make the safest place for Remy, to bring him to a place where he could thrive.
Thank you, my love, for being Remy's daddy. Truly, the stars and the sun and the moon shine in you.