Romance for Real Women

            If you’ve read much of this blog, you’ve probably guessed that we don’t celebrate Father’s Day in my house. 

I have two darling children who seldom see their father.  That’s his choice, not ours.  Rather, it’s not theirs.  I would like nothing more than to firmly close the book on what I regard as the sorriest chapter in my life.

I suspect I’m not alone in being deeply ambivalent about my children’s involvement with a father who walked out on them.

On the one hand, I want them to know, really know, in their bones and in their hearts that everyone who has a close connection to them loves them. This is the basic security children deserve and I’ve told them for years that Daddy loved them. 

But Daddy rarely surfaces.  And, when he does, generally, it’s all about him.  He’s got a spare day.  He has an appointment nearby. He’s got a little time to kill.

Long ago, the kids became used to his casual disregard.  But being used to it, doesn’t take away the pain or the yearning.

I am the one who sees their wistful expressions when holidays like Father’s Day come and go without a word from him.

I am the one who copes with the disappointment when Daddy doesn’t acknowledge a birthday or an achievement.

And I am the one who is trying to raise children who understand the precious gift they are so that they in turn will pass on this fundamental sense of self to their own children.  Every child should have bone deep awareness of being special to their parents.  Every single child.

So, Father’s Day came and went in our house.  I know the kids bought something for him although they didn’t discuss it with me.

Their bright, expectant faces changed during the day to hurt and disappointment by bedtime when it was clear he wasn’t going to call.

And, oh, I’m so angry. I’d like nothing better than to sever all ties. I’d enjoy seeing see his name on the phone and not answering it.  I’d take pleasure in ignoring his occasional e-mails.  I’d love to slam the goddamn door in his selfish face. 

But I won’t.  I know that the next time he calls or drops by…whenever that may be…and announces he wants to see the children, I’ll let him.

Here is a marvelous video posted on www.propeller.com Enjoy and have a safe holiday.

Proud to be an American

Mother’s Day is one of the sweetest holidays of the year. And not just because my partner has learned I adore good chocolate.

It’s the one holiday when the rest of the family makes its own rituals.

If you’re like me, and you probably are, women, mothers, are responsible for the rituals that mark the years for their children.

Thanksgivings may be at home or friends or family. You may decorate for the holiday or just concentrate on the food. But Mom’s the person who decides the where and with whom. Ditto for Christmas and birthdays. And, to Mom falls most of the work. (My Christmas tree has gotten to be such a chore, that two Christmases ago I obtained an arty looking branch from one of the dormant trees in the lawn and decorated it with dried fruit. When I presented it to the children as a different kind of Christmas tree, you can believe they were having none of it. Last year we were back to the three days to put up and two days to take down version.)

This is not a whine, just a fact. We do the work that makes the holidays special.

But not on Mother Day.

This is the day children, husbands and partners are free to conspire to show us how much they care.

In my case, I thoughtfully packed the refrigerator with eggs, milk, bacon and thick sliced bread…just in case breakfast was in the offing.

It was. And, it didn’t take me more than forty minutes or so to clean up, but breakfast in bed was worth every burnt pan.

I am far too frugal to allow my partner to treat us to big dinners. And I’m far too good a cook to pine for eating out when I can make an exceptional meal at home. We will be having one of those tonight.

However, I’m have not been above training my significant other in those things that I do find delightful, jewelry, books and lingerie among them and I suspect I’ll be in receipt of something along those lines tonight. I’m looking forward to it.

I started this off with the assertion that Mother’s Day is the one day mom steps aside to let the family decide the ritual.

I might have been mistaken.