Shouts Out to the Daddies

If you get sick of hearing me brag on Jeff, how wonderful of a husband he is, how wonderful of a father he is... well, then, maybe I'm ALMOST bragging enough.
Growing up the baby of the family, I guess he was a typical boy who didn't have a ton of exposure to babies or taking care of them. Flynn's diaper was the first diaper he ever changed. He'd never swaddled, rocked & perhaps he'd fed a bottle or two, I'm not sure. He preferred kids he could reason with, elementary aged & beyond, and always showed some frazzled nerves when we babysat wee ones.

Look at how far he's come....

He shares the kids' upbringing. He diapers almost as much as I do. We take turns feeding Gabe his big-boy food. He takes Flynn places. He tucks her in at night. He gets up with the kids when they're pulling all-nighters. He replaces Flynn's goldfishies. He reads countless stories. He goes to doctor's appointments with us. He helps me make decisions.
He does everything he can.
And then some.

And when I think of how he's grown, even spiritually since God gave us our first baby to care for.
That's when I get tears in my eyes.
When I hear him praying with Flynn. When I hear him telling her about God, and Jesus, and how much They love her. When Sunday comes and I don't have to wonder if the family is going to church because long before I tell her it's a church day, he's asking her what dress she's wearing to church.

I remember the exact moment that Jeff became a dad. Well, not that moment. But the official moment. When they pulled Flynn out of my belly & over her curdling scream they told us that she was a girl. Jeff looked over at me & through his paper mask I saw a look I'd never seen before. His face seemed to change. And with some new kind of excitement he repeated, "It's a girl."

Now before that I worshipped the ground he walked on. But at that very moment, there was another thing that occurred between us. Another bond. Another stitch. Just when I thought I couldn't love him anymore, I did.
I do.
And everytime he has another tea party, gives another zerbert, changes another poopy diaper, I love him more.

And so on this official holiday, I thank God for Jeff. I thank God that I get to wish Jeff a Happy Father's Day. That we have babies & that they have a Godly daddy.

And I also take this opportunity to talk about my daddy. The memories of which I hope I remember long after he's gone, to tell my kids. About the evenings, after working more than a day's worth of hours, he'd go into the yard and play catch. How he left work to meet my kindergarten class at Rombach Farm's pumpkin patch. He took me to church every week (several times a week actually). He told me about God. He always bailed me out. With money. With resources. With a little bit of patience. When I moved four hours away, then decided once I stuffed every last box into my apartment that I didn't want to do it, he drove down the following day to help load them all back up. He coached my little league team (& yelled at me every game). He taught me how to poke fun. He carried me to the breakfast table every Sunday morning (even still after my sister & brother made fun because I was like 13 -- I say they were jealous).
And another thing I'll always think of about Dad is that he is always working, always. He constantly has a project going. And he always did that at home. Started with their shacky 2 room house & built on...and on... and eventually ALL of us had our own bedroom.
And so now, I appreciate not only his fatherhood, but his grandfatherhood. He has 1/2 a dozen kids who absolutely adore him & call him "Papa". And a 9-month old who already refers to him as "Paaa" (think of a puff of air) & who gets a gleam in his eyes when he looks up at my pot rack full of pots (because Papa hoists him up there to hit & clank the pots). For like a year when I'd ask Flynn the question, "Guess who's coming over?" It was always, "PAPA!!!!" Later Nana got tagged on. But he was #1 in her book... over ALL of us.
My dad is always there for us to help us. And a 60-"something" year old man could play the 'old' card of, "can't do much to help out with the kids." But, when I was in the hospital countless times this year, he always took more than his turn to watch the kids. And always did a pretty darn good job I might add.

So, Happy Father's Day to my dad. I love you.

And Happy Father's Day to the dad of my kids. I love you.

And Happy Father's Day to every dad who makes a difference. Who loves like they know how. Who supports their kids in every way. Especially those dads in my life.