The Dad Battle: Daddy's versus Father's...who are you?

As a little girl I always felt like the only person who mattered in the world was me...okay until my sister came along...but, for my parents there was nothing more important than their girls. My Dad was one of those parents who brought home special treats for dessert and cool trinkets from his travels. We were Daddy's Girls and I always thought I was so lucky to have such a wicked cool Dad. He's listen to music with us and dance around the room like a fool to whatever was on the record player, because he loved us and would do anything to see his girls smile. With all his own dysfunctional history of being raised by former military and a Midwestern school teacher my Dad never batted an eye at affection.

This kind of love is what I measure the men in my life against. The kind of Man I want to raise my children. I should've known from the first conversation (argument I should say) the Bio and I had about raising kids that this was not the kind of Man I wanted to have a child with and yet I did. Love or at least the desperation of wanting to make love last makes you see things in a distorted picturesque view.

In my last post I mentioned the idea of being a 'Daddy' versus just being a 'Father'. This is a huge topic of meaning for me as the mother of a little boy and also as the little girl of an amazing 'Daddy'.

When I was about 9 years old my half-sister magically appeared out of nowhere and came to live with us when her Mother died tragically. The short version, her parents had divorced before my Dad even knew she existed...and it was my fault. Our five year age difference made no sense to her and the fact that I was so in love with this Big Sis of mine made no sense to her already warped sensibility. Our Dad loved us all but it was not to be. Our new family fell apart and soon after my half sister went AWOL and I have no clue where she is...to this day I wish she and I could mend fences and be sisters. At least for our kids.

When I was 15, I caught my Dad crying...my Dad has one of those you don't cry in front of people attitudes and I've seen him cry all of four or five times now in my life. It was my nieces birthday and mine was coming up...I'd be 16 and she would've been 5. At that moment I didn't tell him I saw him crying, instead I told my Mom how guilty I felt for ruining my Dad's life. If it wasn't for me maybe she would still have her family. That's when my Mom told me the whole story...the divorce, how my Mom and Dad met WAY after and how on the day I came home from the hospital post-birth my Dad thanked my Mom for giving him the chance to be a real 'Daddy'. I cry every time I think about how my Dad was never given a chance to really love his first child or his first grandchild for that matter. He left for his own reasons, but his wife and the mother of his first child would not let him participate in her life and that kills me to think of the pain it caused both of them.

On my 22nd Birthday, my Dad almost died of bleeding ulcers and I told him I was sorry for everything...and he told me he was not.

Today I struggle with that desire for my son's Bio to be a Daddy just like mine...but I know he's not. He's madly in love with our son but he's not that kind of Man. Many of our battles are because he's just not that Man. He's strict and careful and has expectations that are often ridiculous of a 3-year old. But they deserve to know each other and I will always want that for them. Maybe someday he'll be comfortable in his skin enough to just be a Daddy. And yet I thank G*d that my Dad is here and present for my son daily because just like he was that Man who was my Daddy, he is that kind of Grandpa. He is the kind of Grandpa that brings so much joy to my little boy that I can't imagine what my life would be like without him in our lives.

Every kiddo deserves more than just a father...they deserve a Daddy too.

On my Day with Daddy we went to...

...the Gym apparently.

The Monkey has new visitation with his Bio as of a several weeks ago and we just started overnights every other Sunday...so far the nights are fine...it's the day after that makes me cringe and often cry.

Yesterday the Monkey asked me if we could get ready to do exercises...I was sort of baffled since I'm not really the let's go do exercises kind of Mommy. After a few requests to go, I had to ask...'Monkey when do you go do exercises?'...the answer...'Daddy takes me to the exercise store'.

At first I laughed it off and thought no big deal. How he chooses to spend his time with his child is not my business. It's his time. So a few moments later before bedtime I started thinking about the single Dad's in my life and the conversations we've had about time and how precious it is. One of my co-workers (still need a good tag name for him) and fellow single parents and I have chatted about this very topic.

Then enter my new dating guy HSD and his visitation views. He has his son (4 yr. old next week) from Thursday night to Monday morning every other weekend. As we chatted about when we'd get to see each other next I said something about letting me know when he was available...knowing full well he was with kiddo this weekend. I adored his response...'I'm booked until Monday, but maybe we could meet at the park'. Okay so here's how the rest went...he feels that every moment he gets with his son is awesome and he needs to dedicate more time to him than to anything else (Me) and he just hopes I understand.

Do I understand? HELLS YEA!!!

As a single Mama who has spent more time ditching guys and/or being ditched by them because this is the stand I take on my son, I completely love this side of him. (not like LOVE but you know appreciate). I adore when a man with children (married or single) knows how good he has it to have them in his life and appreciates that gift. So I drift to thoughts of the Bio and how the Monkey explains his day with his Bio and it makes me flame up...but again nada I can do about it.

So, I'm wondering fellow Single Mama's and Papa's...how do you keep the flames out of your noggin when your kiddo comes back a whole different animal?

It felt like home to me.

So five days after our 1st date and lots more talking and texting, we both admitted five whole days felt too long. He said it out loud and I agreed.

I drove to his house to meet him for dinner since my day was just to scattered to come to focus and be ready at my house...plus my hair appointment ran over and technically I was late. HSD was waiting for me, with a post nap crankiness that was just too adorable. Having had fallen asleep waiting for me I skipped the explanation about the hair, it would have not been polite to admit I chose highlights over him. While I sat on his couch waiting for him to pick a shirt I starred at the train set in the living room, the same exact one my Monkey has and it felt like home. That's when I shuddered and freaked and started to think about 'rushing' it and began my deep breathing to move away from the thoughts that we'd need a bigger house for both the boys. Whoa. Brain freeze.

After his shirt dilemma was solved we hopped in his car, which was tough for me in a skirt being that it had rollbars and was outfitted more for racing than for street driving. I let it slide. I love fast cars. Once at the restaurant we had the usual 2nd date chatter about our families and our friends and the dream vacations we want to take with our kids...and he did it again he said he couldn't imagine going another week without seeing me. I've not held hands across a table at a food joint in years. Not since I told the Bio I was preggers for the record. He shared personal things with me and I felt like I could tell him anything and he'd get it.

Post dinner plans were to play Blacklight Mini Golf but those were scrapped when we agreed we just wanted to get to know each other. We rented a crappy movie and spent the rest of the evening chatting and having our 1st and many other kisses. He told me he felt weird saying it so soon but he was sure he didn't want to see anyone else and asked me not to either...this sparked a LONG talk.

The bottom line for him...he doesn't see dating more than one person as productive. And something was telling him that I was going to change his life for good. He told me he knew it when he saw me in person for the first time.

The bottom line for me...I have spent the last 8 months recovering from my fear of being hurt and giving that power to a man. Especially after being hurt by the Douche Bag and his I don't really have a girlfriend speeches. Finally I've come up with the strength to live and let go for real. I think I proved that to myself with the Mtn. Man. And now here's this man who is tossing me his heart and his feelings are right out there...so what do I do?

Of course I had to be honest. My heart says stop here and just see what happens. It couldn't hurt, could it? Well as a matter of fact it could hurt...really BAD. But is being afraid of risk taking worth losing out on what could be something awesome? This optimist who has taken up residence in my head, has to say...NOPE. Love is hard and ugly and painful and if this is a chance to be loved than I will take it with both hands open and if I get hurt then I will rise above that too. Before the night was done I told him I would try to the best of my ability to let my heart be there. And I will. I owe myself that.

As for the rest of the date...I fell asleep watching the lame movie in his arms on his couch and yeah it felt like home in that moment to me. Until he woke me up and I left...but I won't mind going back.

the Holy Sweater

In November 2007, I moved home. I packed what I had that was truly mine from the home I shared with the Bio and set up house for me and the then 3.5 month old Monkey, under my parents roof. I had no furniture of my own...no bed, no dresser and nothing of true value...and I had very little along the lines of clothes that fit my post-baby body.


I was in one of the phases of grieving and so tired. Suddenly, I was this new woman and on this new path I had no clue who I would be besides the Mama of this amazing little survivor. 8-weeks early and 3lbs 4oz...and growing.


It was then that my sister brought me a bunch of stuff from her closet...a ritual we perform for each other at the end of a season or beginning. At the time I was no where near fitting into most of it, but it was the sweaters that I looked at and took a deep breath filled with relief. My sister, younger than me by almost four years and I have the same taste in sweaters. Comfy and cozy. And for the winter ahead of us I needed them.


My winters since then have been marked by the ceremonial Tupperware container shuffling to find those sweaters and one in particular. The Holy Sweater. It has been one of my top three favorites home sweaters since 2007. I wear it to cook, clean, cuddle and sleep some nights when it's nippy enough...I love that sweater as much as anyone can love an item of clothing. It was the first sweater that I picked from that pile of stuff my sister brought for me to sort through and it's been there for me through so many tear-filled nights and days. I think I was wearing it the first time the Bio served me with custody papers...it's my essential piece of comfort clothing.


I even mourned the untimely loss of the sweater belt that went with it...


Just the other day, when the rain started to pour in Sunny So Cal, I made the ceremonial event of pulling out the sweaters and the coats and finding thermals. Out came my sweater and I hugged it like someone does an old friend...it was a hug filled with relief and comfort.


My Monkey is the only person who has pointed out that it has a giant hole under the left arm and has thereby dubbed it the 'Holy Sweater'.