I have some great men in my life – my dad is the greatest dad in the world. Some of you are probably thinking that’s not true, but it is. #sorrynotsorry He’s the kind of person who will help you out no matter what situation you’re in. I can’t tell you the countless times (until he bought me a GPS for Christmas) I’d call him because I was hopelessly lost driving somewhere and he’d calmly figure out where I was – through me screaming and crying, “I don’t know what’s around me! There’s some trees, 2 trucks, and a sign that says no U turns!” – and he’d either get me back home or to wherever I was supposed to be going.
He’s also the dad who coached my summer softball leagues when I was a kid. And let me tell you, I was the worst player on the team. That’s not an exaggeration. I always played catcher or right field (mainly because the fielding for both of those positions wasn’t too difficult), and I either struck out or walked every time at bat. I’m sure it was painful for my mom to sit through those games, but God bless her, she did! Anyway, I wanted my name in the newspaper for baseball so badly, but in order to get your name in there, you actually had to contribute something to the game besides being the loudest cheerer. Then it happened. I made contact with the ball, ran as fast as I could to first base, and they didn’t throw me out! I got a hit! Or so I thought… It was actually a fielder’s choice. There was a girl on first who they threw out at second. That’s not an official hit. But guess who’s name was in the paper the next day with one hit written after it? Yep, my dad wasn’t about to squelch my enthusiasm. He’s just an all around good guy.
My husband is also a great father to Z and Vincent. He not afraid to be silly with the boys, and is always ready to have a lightsaber battle or crawl through the maze of tubes in our playroom. He’s playful, caring, and no one could ever accuse him of not loving his children. It’s obvious just by looking at him that he can’t get enough of his boys, and they can’t get enough of him either.
Vincent and Z have some really great male role models in their lives, and I’m so grateful for that. But there’s another father to talk about, and that’s my son’s birth father. I wrote an article for adoption.com about him. Please check it out here:
Raising boys is a beautiful, messy, gross challenge that I wouldn’t trade for the world, but I’m lucky they have some great men to look up to in their lives.