Posts Tagged ‘fathers’


Bourbon Baby

During the holidays, my husband received a box of liquor-infused chocolates. Cognac, Jack Daniels, Bourbon, you name it. Anyway, I’d noticed that he stashed the box of goodies in the refrigerator to chill for whenever he needed a sweet nip. When I saw this, I removed the box, noted that the count was low, and headed upstairs to chat with him about why it might not be wise to leave this in the fridge. His thoughts, of course, were that he liked his chocolate (and liquor) chilled. On the other hand, I was thinking more about the two teenagers we have in the house. Of course, I believe that we are raising them to be responsible young people and would hope that they would not touch what doesn’t belong to them…but momma didn’t raise no fool either. 


Candy Love

The other day I overheard one of my teenage sons on his cell phone whispering words of love. I didn’t panic. I simply switched into mommy-stealth mode, lingering nearby to discern the extent of this tomfoolery.

 As he nonchalantly slid his phone back into his pocket, I pounced.

 So, who is this you’re saying “I love you” to?

 Short response: A friend.

 Soooo….what kind of friend is this? A girlfriend?

 Yet another typically short teenage response: No.

 Soooo….why are you telling her “I love you”?

 Uhh (or perhaps he said duh!)…we always say that.

 And… cut! Conversation concluded.

 Perhaps I should have been content to have gotten that snippet of information out of him, because most times it feels as if the Jaws of Life are needed to pry information from these teenagers. However, days later my husband and I both remain confused and find ourselves muttering aloud what the heck is wrong with these kids?! Then we stumble into discussions like a bunch of ol’ timers about how we just didn’t do that back in the day.

 I mean, just when was love downgraded?

 Turn on the television and love (or some Hollywood version of it) is pouring out like cheap, boxed wine.  In a world that has become so desensitized to everything from A to Z, how do we teach our children to embrace the value of love when it’s being handed out as freely as candy?



Twin Stranger

As far back as I remember, I recall tales about each person having a “twin” somewhere on this Earth. I’m not talking about an actual twin who you tangled with in the womb, swapped identities with “for fun,” or with whom you shared that special, biological connection. I’m not even talking about the celebrity that our over-inflated egos might have fooled us into thinking we resemble. No, I’m thinking of that random stranger that grandma used to say “looked just like Leroy” while shaking her head and humming Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone.

Most of us have been told we look just like so-and-so, only to see our lookalike, shake our heads, and question when folks last had their eyes checked. Oddly enough, I’ve been told that I bear a resemblance to Lauren Hill from the group The Refugees. Personally, I don’t see the resemblance but I’ll take it as a compliment, as long as we are referring to the pre-loony Lauren.

I don’t always believe these old wives’ tales, and would have easily dismissed this one, if I hadn’t met my own “twin” one day.


Daddy’s Love

One morning while getting my daughter ready for her trek to daycare, I noticed that she had a nasty rash with inflamed, red bumps all over her little legs. Like the mother that I am, I immediately panicked, called her doctor, and scheduled an appointment ASAP. In route to the appointment, I called my husband to convey my concerns and ask if he’d noticed anything on her legs when bathing her the night before. He stated no but paused and speculated quietly I wonder if the shampoo I used caused the rash.

(Moment of temporary confusion.)

Me: You washed her hair?

Him: No.

Me: Sooooo….why did you say you used shampoo?

Him: She was out of baby wash, so I used shampoo.

Me: What do you mean you “used shampoo”?

Him: Well, she wanted bubbles…

(Extremely loooooooong pause.)

Him: Are you still there?

Me: I’m hanging up now.


(Silent cursing in my head…ok, maybe not so silent.)

Fast forward, and less than an hour later, I’m intently watching the doctor as she examines my daughter’s legs and comments that it looks like an allergic reaction. Quietly I ask, Can this be a result of bathing in shampoo?

Doctor: (puzzled look)

Me: Yes, that’s what I’m living with.

Listen, I understand the special bond that fathers share with their daughters, but really?! This is some foolishness. We now look back on this incident and laugh. Well, he laughs; I just shake my head. His thoughts: That’s my baby, and if my baby wants bubbles, she gets bubbles.


Daddy’s girl








I wish my father could just let go and forgive himself. I see him still trying to make up for time lost that can never be regained. If only he could see that I love him for who he is today and that I forgive him for the mistakes he made years ago. I’m way past crying over bumps and bruises never kissed or special days that he missed. I love him for the father he is today. No matter what story the past holds, I love my father and will always be my daddy’s girl.


Mothers are not Fathers

I recall periods of my childhood when I would call out for my father only to hear my cries echo back unanswered from my bedroom walls. My parents divorced when I was very young, and my father went on to live his life far away from the young, needy arms that reached for him. I would cry and often ask my mother where he was and why he didn’t love me enough to call or come see me. My mother would just console me, assure me with her love, and tell me that everything would be alright.

My father’s absence in my young life could have left deep emotional wounds within me, but I was fortunate to have the love of a strong mother who instilled in me a deep sense of self-worth that kept me from seeking love in the wrong places. My mother did what countless women day after day do for their children when the fathers have gone missing in action. She mothered and fathered me through childhood.

But, this role was never one that should have been played by one person. No mother should ever have to play the father stunt-double. We simply are not genetically wired to be fathers.

As a mother of two boys (from my first marriage), I find that more often than not I have to wear the mommy & daddy trousers as well. I have to love, nurture, and care for my boys while instilling in them a sense of manhood – as best as I can define it. And, to be honest, this scares and angers me all at once. I am afraid that I will likely miss teaching them some key element that they’ll need to become responsible young men one day; while on the flipside, I am angry that I should even have to worry about this. So, every day I pray that I get it right and rely heavily on my husband (their stepdad) to do what I am merely not equipped to do.

Fortunately for me, I was able to establish a loving relationship with my father at age 19, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder how many speed bumps in life could have been avoided if he would have been around earlier to guide my steps…and how much of that I would be able to pass on to my children now.