Two years ago on what was ironically the morning of fathers day, I got up and peed on a stick. Not any stick mind you, we weren’t camping… the special kind that gets either one or two pink lines depending on how much fun you’ve been having.
We weren’t trying to have kids but I’d be lying through my teeth if I said we were as careful as we could have been… something about being married and at the ripe old age of your early 20’s makes you less concerned with the precautions you had been so diligent about in your teen years. And there it was, two little pink lines… and so it was on that day, the first father’s day that mattered to either of us, that we realized we were going from this…
Two years ago I was madly in love with the most amazing man I’d ever know and now he is not only that but also the greatest dad.
If you look closely at this picture you’ll see that David is still wearing his hospital wristband even though we are clearly at home. He refused to take it off for more than a week because it said “dad” on it and it was just so damn proud. (It may still be on his wrist to this day except eventually the shower started to ruin it and I convinced him to let me put it away in the keepsake box.)
He drives me nuts by having a different system with Verona than I do, by parenting slightly different, saying different things than I would when she falls down, and thinking things are “not a big deal” when I can clearly see how the entire world will melt around us if we don’t handle this the EXACT. RIGHT. WAY. But no matter how much stress he (and by he I mean my own crazy) may cause me, at the end of the day it’s clear to anyone who glances their direction how much he loves that little girl, how much she loves him, and how lucky any child could be to have such a great daddy.
Happy Father’s Day.