St John's Sunday & Father's Day

the love of my life is the father of my pride and joy.

breakfast.

satisfied popsicle connoisseur

crayon nibbler. this is why i am not allowed on facebook or blogs unless she is snoozing.


It is easy for me to post about what a great Dad Habtamu is! The relationship he has with our kids is tender and solid. It is what I'd always imagined for my children, before the kids and before Habtamu entered my life. You've heard me say it: I'm living my dream come true! Woot-woot! The three of them are so delicious; it rocks that these little people and this man have helped me grow up, grow stronger, love life with purpose, even in the humbling stressful aspects of being a wife and mother. The father in this little family is totally present and 'represents'. Hey-ay! I am so content celebrating the father that is Habtamu, and make a day special for him with our children. But you know all that. As good as it is, and as tough as it can be, Hab's in it to win it for Father Of The Year. Word. (xo xo muah! love you lofah.)

Father's day is the obvious topic for the day, but i am having hesitations and a bit of a block. What I am stumbling over, resisting, is the less obvious post about the absence of my own father from my life. If I haven't told you in person, know I won't tell you now, the details of my parents' situation. But the short of it is, there was no father/daughter relationship. My Mom is an outstanding mother, supporter, trooper who has made her love for me known, tangible, and ever flowing. In the past I found it really annoying if people told me that having one parent is sad, or when they showed pity over my one-parent childhood. But that doesn't cast a shadow on my life up to now, it just lends me a new perspective. I didn't know what I was missing until my Lofah became a father.

It was my normal to have one parent. How hard it must have been for my Mom to do the child rearing on her own. She often tells me that she didn't have those overwhelming moments or feel she needed a break when she was raising me. She always tells me what joy came into her life with her 7th child. I wonder how Mom must have felt when I cried after watching a commercial with a Mom, Dad and Daughter. I remember telling her that it wasn't fair for people to make those kinds of commercials because that was not how every family was, some families just have Mom and Daughter (and 6 other siblings, who weren't part of my equation, since I sincerely believe all children have plenty of 'only child' sentiments). I remember one St John's hanging out in Cal u met, one of the girls talking about her Father's Day breakfast, or lunch, or supper--some sort of family gathering anyway. Father's Day was really low on my radar. Not quite ready to delve any deeper into my chest (that is where my body is reacting to my memory search at this very moment) to begin that chapter of processing an undernourished portion of my roots. There is some pain, at the point of confusion and shame that were mostly an unconscious undercurrent in the filter's of the child and young woman I once was. Normal life is very weird, when it gets dissected and inspected.

It isn't weird to be fired up for Father's Day in my present reality. Celebrate! The kids gave Habtamu a sweet card-- the kind with music when opened--"You Make Me Want To Shout! Lift my hands up and Shout!" Suvi is especially selective in her card choices. We all danced in the bed when Daddy opened his card. We skipped church, and Gram did too, and enjoyed a late breakfast together as a family: Dad, Mom, Son, Daughter, & Grandma!