It seems like the weekend just flies by and then it our one day off together and our week begins.
We spend our weeks as shops passing in the night and Sat-Mon we get to re-connect.
I find myself taking out my anger on my husband more than I should.
I get stressed out about work, the kids, the housework, the dogs and my stupid depression and my poor husband gets the brunt of my unhappiness.
But then, by Sunday, we are in a calmer place and all of a sudden it starts all over again.
I long for a vacation.
Away from here. No phones. No kids.
I have gotten my fair share of time away with my trip to NYC in Dec., my girls weekend on the winery tours, our trip to the cottage with my sister and her husband for our anniversary.
But I would love a trip away, far away, for more than one night.
So for all the times, manymanymany times, that I do not hold up my end of the marriage deal, I am truly sorry.
I won't do a tribute to my father.
In my much younger years, he was there.
There are photos of me sitting on his shoulders, of birthday parties with him smiling and vacations with tents and fishing (yeesh- I always was afraid of fish) and the lake and him grilling steaks and making pancakes and bacon.
He was harsh too, controlling, an alcoholic, he yelled and spanked way too hard with his belt and took out his aggressions on us kids and my mother.
I do remember some good times.
He got me my first pony and later, a horse.
He worked hard to start his own business.
He started to build us a house in the country.
But when my mother got fed up, wanted to go back to nursing and get out of the house, he moved out and the rest of the days we knew him, he was absent.
No child support, he badmouthed my mother endlessly and constantly forced us to choose between them.
And soon, he was invisible.
I was always so envious of the girls with the daddies who drove them to gymnastics, walked them down the aisle, called them when their kids were teething.
Mine didn't care. If he did, he had no idea how to show it.
My last contact with him was when I moved in with him my senior year when my mom and I had a fight.
I had my own room, money, a housekeeper to do my laundry, and my father.
Except he was remarried and he still ignored me.
He went to the country club with my stepmother for dinner and on trips out of town and to her parents lake house.
I was alone. They didn't need me there.
I moved out.
I got an apartment that he paid rent on and furnished for me.
He gave me money to live on for 6 months and poof, he was gone.
A few years later, I brought my boyfriend (now my husband) to meet him but he wasn't home.
I sent him a photo of our oldest son. He never replied.
I always knew that men left.
When times got hard, they were gone.
I met my husband.
I wasn't looking for love but it found me.
He has always been here.
I have pushed him away, knowing he would get fed up with me and just go.
Through the good times and the bad, and the very bad.
He has never left. I left once but I came back. He let me. I was and still am amazed.
He has always been the hardest working man I have known.
Never without a job, always here for me and the kids no matter what.
Never judging and always loving and always here.
Like a husband and dad should be.
He would do anything for the kids.
He isn't perfect.
We used to fight over the stupidest things.
My family, his family, the kids, the housework.
We still fight but we fight smarter. We have grown up together. We still have a long way to go.
He has become a calm force over the years. He keeps me as sane as I will ever be.
He has been criticized, put down and mocked.
He has gone on.
He is a Christian, he knows his place in heaven.
He knows about politics and the Bible and tornadoes and computers and old Mustangs and guns.
He knows how to buy Ugg boots and Coach purses and tampons and home decor.
He cleans up vomit for me every time.
He has more confidence and strength than anyone I know.
He spoils me and the kids, loves with no expectations, puts us before himself and believes that family is the most important thing a man can have.
He waters the plants, works 2 jobs, takes care of the yard, cooks, plays with the dogs, takes care of all the finances, deals with the car maintenance, takes us on Sunday drives, volunteers his time with the kids' school parties and band functions, deals with endless business obligations, surprises all of us with amazing gifts, hugs and kisses us all daily, makes us laugh, shops with me, helps our son with all of his college problems and issues and held me while I cried myself to sleep for months after my mom died.
He took care of the kids when I worked nights, coming home after working all day and making dinner, giving baths, overseeing homework and projects and tucking them in without a single complaint.
That is what dad's do.
He still thinks I am beautiful and he still adores me.
And he puts up with me.
No small feat.
This post is for you, my dearest husband.
Happy Father's Day!