Fathers day.
Hmm… not the usual fanfare and doting I’ve grown accustomed to over the years. Really makes you realise how much preparation, prodding and pushing mums do on this most celebrated day of the year.
I did get breakfast in bed though. Two pieces of toast and a valiant attempt at a coffee. I guess I shouldn’t complain, lying in bed while a 7 and 3 year old fiddle with electricity and boiling water could have worse outcomes than a shit coffee.
Thankfully both Albi’s kinder and Grace’s school allowed them full creative licence when it came to the obligatory card for said day. I’m still trying to work out if Albi’s is genius or the simple scribble it appears to be. Grace, of course, drew me a lovely picture. Of herself.
It was, in retrospect, the same I would have been treated to in previous years, but this time, without Renee here to continue the prodding for adulation, that’s where it stopped.
I was really quite flat (down / bummed / whatever) for the rest of the day, feeling quite lonely and apathetic towards life in general. We’d just finished lunch out, and I found myself sitting on a nearby rocky bluff staring out to sea while absent mindedly keeping Albs from falling over the cliff.
And then he hit me over the head with a stick.
At first I was, um, a little “curt” with him. (it bloody hurt) but it snapped me back to reality. I wasn’t paying attention, to him, to anything. It forced me to deal with right now (or I’m assuming he would have kept on swinging). He was staring at me with a mix of fear, raw happiness and mischief. (insert guilty emoji)
I had been pissed off all day and ignoring the fun we could be having because of what I didn’t get, or have, instead of being thankful for what I did. Two awesome little humans who were thoughtful and caring enough to make me breakfast in bed. To draw a picture of what they thought I would like on a card and hand it to me beaming with pride. To smack me on the head with a stick, just when I needed it.
The abrupt end to the fathers day proceedings earlier that morning wasn’t indicative of their love either. They’d just finished what they needed to do to show me.
I’ve realised over the last year or so that kids live in such a present state that they don’t have time to dwell on the past, or worry about the future. It’s all about the here and now, and like a smack on the head, nothing hurts for long if you can let it go, and you can’t be happy if you don’t.
So as shitty as my father’s day had been for the most part, I went to sleep that night feeling loved and fortunate to have what I have in my children. And especially thankful to Renee for bringing them into my life.
So happy belated father’s day and big love to all the dads out there, especially those doing it solo or just not in ideal circumstances. Kids aren’t the easiest of things, but they’re bloody worth every bit. Just watch them with sticks. And on cliffs. ☺️