Happy Father’s Day!

Today is Father’s Day. I want to wish my Dad a wonderful Father’s Day. Thank you Dad for loving me. Thank you for sharing your passion for the Bible. Thank you for showing us how to love people. Thank you for playing your guitar and being the soundtrack of my childhood. Thank you for teaching us the importance of working hard and always doing your best. Thank you for teaching me how to edit papers and enjoy a good joke. Thank you for loving Mom and faithfully taking care of your family. I love you.

Happy Father’s Day to my Father-in-law! Thank you for all you did to help my husband become who he is. Your legacy is being passed down the generations.

And last, but definitely not least…Happy Father’s Day to my wonderful husband.

We’ve been on this parenting journey for eighteen and a half years now. It’s fun to look back…

I remember when we brought our first born home from the hospital. We were having problems with nursing and I didn’t know what to do to help this poor, crying little baby. I remember how you confidently scooped her off the bed, cuddled her to your chest and began rocking her and murmuring to her. She instantly got quiet, staring intently into your face as you talked to her. I was slightly jealous, she didn’t get quiet for me! But, mostly I was just relieved that at least one of these new parents was succeeding. You have always had a way with infants!

I remember you playing on the floor with a bunch of toddlers and small children. All of them climbing on your back, trying to ride the horsie. You would play “rough” with them and sometimes I couldn’t stop myself from yelling “CAREFUL!!” but the kids would just laugh and laugh and run back for more.

I remember you mowing the lawn. Our son, maybe three years old, following along carefully behind you as he pushed his little plastic mower. He was quite convinced that he was helping you with this important chore. And you just walked carefully, keeping an eye on him.

I remember when I headed off to my first weekend Women’s Retreat. I was leaving you with a four year old, a three year old, and a one year old who was going to be weaned while I was gone. I looked at you doubtfully. You got this? Sure. I’m going to take them camping. Cause only you would think it was easier to take three babies camping than it would be to stay home with them for a weekend alone. And of course you guys had a great time.

I remember late nights, when the baby had been weaned, I was pregnant with our next. You took over all night time problems. The toddler would start crying. You would grab your pillow and head off to lay on some bedroom floor, soothing the crying child with your presence, your deep breathing as you fell asleep next to their crib.

I remember how you would always take the newborn from me at the dinner table. Settling them on your knee as you ate with one hand, giving me a break from the nonstop baby-holding. And you would always give them tastes of your food way before I was ready to take that step.

Then the kids started getting older and while we still enjoyed holding and cuddling the infants, we also had to start dealing with teenagers. I remember your patience. Your grace. Your love for these kids who were doing everything possible to not be lovable. I remember your willingness to forgive. Your humbleness when you asked your child for forgiveness when you messed up. I remember your prayers for wisdom.

You are an awesome dad. I love your sense of humour that makes the little kids cackle and the older kids roll their eyes and groan. I love your willingness to put our two year old to bed every night. I love how our children clamour for you when you walk in the door. I love how you enter the room and the energy instantly gets revved up. Dad’s here. The Fun has Arrived.

You love your kids and you model the life of a man who walks after God. I thank God for giving me such a partner. Happy Father’s Day!

 

Alien Bruises

So, I’m curious if anyone else is prone to flights-of-imagination/paranoia/weird theories? The other day I glanced down at my hand and I saw a bruise. A bruise that looked a lot like the bruises I used to get when I got IVs in my hand (10 pregnancies and hyperemesis got my fair share of IVs in my hand). Hmm. That’s strange. I haven’t been to any doctors lately. Nope, no memories of getting an IV. Wonder where that bruise came from? I pressed on it, yep, definitely a bruise. Definitely hurts. Any memories of injuring my hand? Ummm. Nope… and then my imagination kicked in. Aliens. Must be aliens. They must have drugged me so I couldn’t remember anything. Now, why would aliens want to abduct me? My brain went a little fuzzy then. Couldn’t really think of any logical reasons. But still! Why not aliens?

I remember in high school I had a weird thing happen. One day I noticed that two twin birthmark-like spots had appeared on my rib cages (does that word go plural or does it stay rib cage?). I mentioned this mystery to some friends at school and we had a great discussion on where these spots came from. The general conclusion, after many ideas were tossed out, was that it must have been aliens. (Aliens seem to be a real handy scapegoat for all unexplained phenomena.)

Of course, the real explanation is that I am clumsy, and forgetful, and usually really distracted. I go around a corner, somehow completely misjudge the distance and bang my knee on the corner. Two days later a giant bruise appears. Where did that come from? Must be those aliens again.

I am one of those moms, when my kids ask me if there are fairies, I tell them that we’ve never seen one, but it doesn’t mean they don’t exist. God created winged creatures after all! Extraterrestrials? Why not. Bigfoot? Definitely. Life is lot more interesting when you allow yourself to believe there are still mysteries out there. And it’s a lot more fun to blame your bruises on aliens too. Trust me, I know!