Well, here we are. Summer solstice and Father's Day, same day. Approximately. I'm not as big a solstice celebrator as I could be I suppose. I like to acknowledge it but let's put it this way- I'd make a lousy pagan. At least it's a real thing. Like, with science and everything. Which is very cool.
Father's Day?
Eh. I have such mixed feelings about this one.
I honor and adore so many good daddies and have a few I thank every year, starting with the daddy of my own children, Mr. Moon. Of course he only bio-dadded two of them but he's been a father to all four. I somehow never seem to contact the first husband on Father's Day but then again, he's never contacted me on Mother's Day so I guess that's the way we do it. We really should though. I know we both appreciate how the other has been a very important part of our kids' lives.
I also text Vergil and Jason. They've been such excellent fathers to my grandchildren and that means the world to me.
And I always text Billy too, and tell him that I wish I'd had a daddy like him. This year I told him I wish we'd both had a daddy like him. And that is the honest to god truth.
Of course I did not win the father lottery. And the stepfather lottery was probably even worse. Shall we say they were competing in different categories for the Bad Dad awards? Both gold medaled in their own events though.
Two of my earliest memories are of me being in pain and wishing my daddy was there and he was not. Physical pain. This of course led to the emotional pain. I've just been thinking recently about one of those memories. I think my Gorgon reaction triggered this pondering- that instant and complete outburst of emotion which I really did not know I was even capable of. The memory is of me in our kitchen in Chattanooga and I smashed my fingers in a drawer. It hurt so, so bad and my mother was doing everything to comfort me but suddenly, I wanted my daddy and I wanted him bad.
But he was off on one of his many and frequent binges, which could last for days or weeks and so was not there and would not be there until only god and the devil knew when.
I have no idea why I suddenly wanted him for comfort. I can't recall a single time he held me or comforted me in any way but I guess he must have at one point or another.
Dear old dead drunk daddy.
So I'm torn on Father's Day. I recognize the reality of the men in my life who represented fathers while the other part of me celebrates the good dads, the ones who are there for their babies whether they are hurting or not. The ones who cuddle and comfort and support the mothers in all the ways and just make a kid feel loved. I'd say especially a daughter but I think a dad like that is probably just as important to a son. I am coming from the daughter perspective though and can only speak from that.
And Mr. Moon has certainly been all those things. I'll tell you this though- he was TERRIBLE at changing poopy diapers. He would literally gag. And I would tell him that I could not believe that a man who could shoot, butcher, and gut a deer could not change a breastfed baby's poopy diaper.
I mean, he would do it but he sure didn't want to.
Other than that, I can't think of anything he actually failed at and there was a whole lot he excelled at.
And they all knew and they all know he loves them and is there for them, and not just in spirit but in real-life practical ways. Like in start-up-the-chainsaw ways. Like in Dad-my-brake-light-is-on ways. Like in Daddy-I-need-to-buy-a-house-and-navigate-mortgages-and-insurance ways, like in being the first one to the emergency room when the unthinkable call comes.
And so forth.
Bottom line is, he just loved those babies. And he still does and he always will.
I chose well. As Jessie texted to tell me and thank me for just a little while ago. I think that's a real good indication that I did indeed choose a good man to be the father of my children.
I'm not sure that's exactly all I was attracted to him for, but it did not hurt in the least.
This is just a darn rambling post. I've got a text thing going on and I've been making a tomato pie which is quite a process and my kitchen is in dire need right now of cleaning up before I can move on to Dinner, Part II which will involve snapper and squash. Maybe some green beans. So I need to get on that.
Happy Father's Day to all of you who are fathers or who have fathered. Or are fathering.
No ridiculous rules here about who does or does not fit into that category.
If I can claim any real sanity at all, at least part of it is due to a very few very good men who, often unknowingly, gave me powerful hits of what a good father could give.
Should give?
Yes.
Glen's own daddy being one of the main ones.
I'll try to be a little more collected tomorrow.
Meanwhile, happy Sunday from The Lloyd Chapter of the Church of the Batshit Crazy.
We may be insane but we can bake a tomato pie.
Love...Ms. Moon
OMG that tomato pie is beautiful! Yes...Fathers Day....my father was a good man, tho not a warm, loving or fuzzy one,,,,,but reliable, responsible and always there. He's been gone 10 years now and don't really miss him much...but I have taken time today to thank my few dearest friends who have been the most awesome and loving fathers to their own children...and to tell them how much I love them for *that*.. as my dear angel friend and neighbor Paul says...(he grew up w/o Dad from age 7 on).....anyone can be a Dad....but being a true Father takes love, time, patience and all you can provide for that child that is part of you. Amen, Paul. Well said. Happy Fathers Day to Mr Moon.....the father of 4 beautiful and loving souls.......
ReplyDeleteSusan M.
Thanks, Susan. It always slays me how mothers generally get blamed for all sorts of things they do or don't do for or with or to their kids while if a dad stays around and brings home a paycheck, that's pretty much all we can expect. Which is so wrong. If a man changes his child's diapers and takes care of them while letting Mom sleep sometimes, he's practically the Father of the Year.
DeleteBut some men go far beyond that and I admire them so.
I don't recall cuddles and comfort from either of my parents. Dad:"put a bandaid on it" Mum: "well now you learned to not do that again". They both passed many years ago now and I don't miss either of them.
ReplyDeleteI am very glad that you and Mr Moon found each other though and have shared so many good years.
I love you, River. You say it like you see it.
Delete"They both passed many years ago now and I don't miss either of them."
I don't miss my parents either.
Glen and I talk all the time about how incredibly fortunate we are to still be so happy with each other.
My dad was a good man. He worked 2 jobs and was gone a lot. I now look back and laugh. When I was with my first partner (age 21) he said...does that guy have a job? Yes dad, he's a dentist. He just said...hmmm. that works. LOL.
ReplyDeleteThat tomato pie looks heavenly. Happy Father's Day to Mr. Moon. Has Maurice gifted you recently?
Paranormal John
A lot of men, especially fathers of fairly long ago, were often so tired from working that they didn't have a lot left to give. Of course now women are expected (and generally NEED) to work too and despite all the changes, still do most of the child and house-related chores. I look at Lily and have no idea how she does it. Three kids, full-time job, shares the kids with their dad. So of course he does child-care a good amount of the time but not nearly all of it. And I look back on everything I did "just" as a stay at home mother, mostly, and I have no idea how I did it, either. Glen was working 12 hour days mostly. Six days a week.
DeleteLily's partner Lauren helps her tremendously.
Maurice hasn't gifted me but she brought her Dad Human a mouse the other day. Her affections have become turned onto him.
Happy Father's Day to Mr. Moon. I have loved reading about him over the years -- loved reading about both of you and that beautiful family you've created and nurtured. I love my dad -- he's 90 years old and pretty damn awesome.
ReplyDeleteGlen IS pretty nurturing, actually. He is a caring man who will do anything for his kids. And oh, the grandkids adore him. Do you remember when August called himself "Little Boppy"? Glen was Big Boppy and he was Little Boppy. I could still melt remembering that.
DeleteYour dad is a force of nature and I have to tell you I'm a wee bit jealous that you have had him for your entire life. I hope he just keeps on being well and awesome for a long time to come.
You did indeed chose well on the GlenDaddy and GrandDaddy front. I have loved getting to know him over the years through your writing on this blog.
ReplyDeleteThat tomato pie looks fabulous. Have you shared that recipe with us before? I have looked for a good recipe several times and not found the best one yet. x0x0 N2
I'll try to just do a basic recipe in tonight's post. I sort of do it differently every time but the ingredients are basically the same.
DeleteI love writing about Glen. He drives me crazy, he makes me laugh, he is so steadfast, and he's getting more stubborn by the day.
That pie looks so good, and I wonder if there's a recipe somewhere?
ReplyDeleteI'll post the basics tonight.
DeleteThere are some good and bad parts in each of us, so I try to focus on whatever small positives I can, though I do find some people are sure hard to love! I guess I feel really sad whenever I see children mistreated, and would love to stop whatever that might be. The invisible hurts are so hard to recover from. Your pie crust reminds me that home made pies are so good!
ReplyDeleteYou are right in that most people are a mixture of good and bad and I know I am. Some, however, have so much of the bad that it really doesn't even begin to make up for the good. I feel that way about my stepfather.
DeleteHomemade pies ARE good.
Well, as long as you can bake a tomato pie!
ReplyDeleteThat's right! And find my way to the grocery store and find my way home.
DeleteI have never had tomato pie.
ReplyDeleteFather's Day is just another day here like all holidays, those rooted in nature and those man-made. Since Marc does brunch on Sundays I told him I'd fix him pancake yesterday morning but I already did that last week. He got a long phone call from our son and I'm sure he heard from our daughter too.
I'd really like to know who made up this tomato pie thing. People talk like it's always been around, baked by southern grannies but I never even heard of one until fairly recently.
DeleteI didn't fix Glen a Father's Day breakfast/brunch because he was fishing but I made him a very nice supper.
I'm so glad that my sons are good Dads!
ReplyDeleteI know you must be.
DeleteHere, here to all the great fathers and there are many. I'd like to think the good outnumber the not-so-good. Always acknowledging the rotten apple is a must.
ReplyDeleteMy father was a mixed bag. He was loving, caring and generous, but always carried a sort of sadness and maintained an odd distance. His own father left the family and moved to another state. I never met my grandfather. Some men have no role model for good fathering, and this can pass on to the next generation.
I hope you had a lovely celebration for Glen. He's one in a million!
The good fathers may outnumber the bad but sincerely doubt there are huge numbers of great ones. Perhaps my vision is just very tainted.
DeleteYou're right about the role modeling thing. Glen's dad was the best and meeting him gave me a big insight on how Glen would be as a father. Oddly, his dad grew up without a father but from what I've heard, his mother was strong enough to be just about everything a kid needed.
Glen is one in a million.
That is a yummy-looking tomato pie. If I believed in any supernatural power or force directing the universe, I might suggest that Glen is somehow your "restitution" after enduring the men of your childhood. But I suppose it's really just that you learned how to spot what you didn't want, and how to spot what you did.
ReplyDeleteI always say that it was so obvious to me that Glen would be a very, very good husband and father that I could not let him get away. But as I told Billy yesterday, he had just enough of the bad boy in him to balance out some of all that goodness.
Delete(He still sort of does.)
Sometimes , with luck and clarity, history does not repeat. You broke the bad man thing, Glen come into your life, the children will be just fine. Glen Glue.
ReplyDeleteYour pie is beautiful. and probably way too delicious! I would and could eat the entire pie in one sitting.
Father's day is weird. It can be like the fad of the nineties in elementary school- a trophy, recognition, for "participation". By participation I mean sperm,s effortless contribution. Sperm does not a father make.
You're right. Some fathers don't really contribute a whole lot. You know what I hate? I hate it when men say, "We're pregnant." No you're not. She's pregnant. The man isn't going through any of what has to be gotten through to create, birth, and then nourish life with his own body. He had an orgasm! Whoo-hoo!
DeleteSorry. But that is such a pet peeve of mine.
Mine too. I hate it! Happily, so does my husband, much loved, loving and involved father to our two daughters who sent him flowers, brought him homemade goodies and took us out to brunch yesterday. Margaret
DeleteHave you had any proper counselling about dad?
ReplyDeleteThat is so sweet of you to ask, John. I had several useless if not actually hurtful attempts at therapy before I actually found the one I needed when I was in my early thirties. I always say she saved my life. I went because the of the sexual abuse which I could no longer keep looked in a box inside my head and I knew I needed help. Of course during the course of all of that, the biological father came up a lot. As did my mother. I had a lot of anger and rage to work through. It was hard work, too. I don't know how my family was able to deal with me in that time but they did.
DeleteI did not win the father lottery, and even sadder neither did my kids and I will always be sad about that. I failed.
ReplyDeleteTomato pie. I cannot tell you how envious I am that you have ripe tomatoes. My tomatoes are looking fine and standing tall but I have yet to even one bud, let alone a tomato, ripe or unripe.