Not An Easy Day

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