Summer Breeze

Who's Up Next? Tag-Team Parenting

My dad left this morning. I was too sleepy to get up, so I hugged and waved bye from the couch. I thanked him for coming. He waved me off, saying, "Your mom was there for the early years; I'm here for the later ones."

He left. I woke up.

It felt like a Grey's Anatomy moment. Nobody says that stuff in real life. That kind of dialogue is a Shonda Rhimes original. But there my dad and I were, speaking in profound quotes. Summing life up in neat little, heart-tugging lines.

Mom didn't come to my graduation. But to be fair, I didn't exactly invite her. I know she loves me. I know she supports me. But.... Well, it's a long story. And this post is not about that. So I told her about the graduation, only a couple of weeks ago, but I didn't invite her to it. And she congratulated me, but she didn't scold me for not inviting her. 

"Your mom was there for the early years; I'm here for the later ones."

I've thought those words for a while, but hearing them aloud really made me think: It's the perfect parenting arrangement for us. My mom gave me a strong moral base and all of the fundamentals I fall back on when my values are tested. My dad helps me navigate through real life -- the tough parts that don't follow the book. Thanks to Dad, I let other people live their lives, I try not to judge, but thanks to Mom, I'm strong enough to go my own way and not follow the crowd. I am a walking contradiction, thanks to them. And I love it. And I love them both.

I'm a Daddy's Girl

My dad is in town for my graduation. I had him all to myself. My kiddo's w/his dad this weekend. Being the baby of the family, I'm all about solo attention. We talked so much today about everything from chess to chaucer, lamaze (sp?) classes to reincarnation, men & women & their games to child-rearing. Awesomeness. I love talking to him like a person, adult to adult, hearing his experiences. Knowing what made him him, and indirectly, what makes me me.

He learned chess from a guy in Guam after happening upon it being played. A black guy and white guy were playing. He approached the black guy and was told, "This game is too complicated for you." My dad's just some thug from Brooklyn in his eyes. The white guy overhears and offers to teach Daddy. (He's the one who taught the black guy.) Daddy learns and eventually gets so good, he can beat his teacher. That satisfies him enough that when the black guy asks to play him again, he tells him he doesn't have the time to play him. Just letting the guy know that he can beat the person who taught both of them was satisfaction enough.

The guy who taught Dad chess was Mormon. My dad's always had an intense interest in learning about other religions, as do I. The topic of Mormonism led us into our own discussion of religion.

I'm rambling, I'm sleepy, but I just wanted to document as much as I could. I love my dad. He's so awesome. And this weekend is so precious to me. I got his time. All to myself. I feel so full. Good night.