Dad. I've been thinking about this word a lot lately. Often times it seems that just because a person was involved in the creating of a child they believe they are entitled to this name. But why? Solely because the child carries their DNA? Blood, DNA, biological makeup, all these things mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. You know what else means nothing? Money. In the eyes of a child money means nothing. It's not about what you can buy them. It's not even about child support to "support" them. Children don't understand money. What they understand is love and time.
Over the past year I have watched one man go from a person for had held the idea of raising another man's children as an idea he never wanted, to wanting nothing else. I've watched him learn to be a father and a damn good one at that. I've seen him come home from work and read bed time stories. Tuck all three tiny people into bed, get up every morning to dress, fed, and send them off to school. I've watched him throw a load of laundry into the washer and drier. I've watched him struggle to figure out who's shirt goes to who. I've seen him handle the worst of tantrums from the boy, being patient and talking him down from a full melt down. I've seen him enforce rules, and I've seen him smile and laugh while playing with them. He lays down with the boy to watch batman before getting up and making me lunch on my lunch break. He is involved. He goes to doctors appointments, therapy appointments. He plays ball with them outside and keeps every picture they make him. He loves them. He loves them more than I ever thought possible. He calls them his kids. And in turn they call him dad.
While watching him learn I've watched the little people heal. There is no fear in this house. There is no flinching. They speak freeling. They run with no worries of being too loud. Yes they fight and bicker. They argue and they back talk. They push our buttons as hard as they can because they are children. But they respect us. They know they can only go so far before they are punished. But punishment in this house is grounding. It's doing chores. It's loosing privileges. And some times its a nose in the corner. Very rarely there is a spanking but because that often times results in a negative effect of our children it is saved as a last resort. In this house our children are free to be themselves and to grow and learn. We do not talk down to them, but instead talk to them as individual people, with respect, and love. We never put them down and when they say they are sorry for being bad we correct them. It's not that they are being a bad child, it is that they have done something that was not ok. And never in this house do we down play the issues that the boy and G have. We also do not let them use their issues as excuses and try our best to teach them that blaming other people is not the solution.
In this year I have seen progress. I have fallen in love in more with this amazing man that just fell into out lives, fitting so perfectly you would have thought he had been here all along. And while most days I love to admire him and cherish him, there are days where the past lingers in my mind and I get angry. Which is why the word Dad has been floating about. While watching one man become the best dad a kid could ask for, I've watched another nearly disappear.
Weeks without calls, months without visits. When visits come they are short. The last one only a few hours and the one before the boy didn't even want to go. He said "I want to stay here with you and daddy". The little people have gone from asking every day about their father to not asking at all. The two little ones don't ask when they will see him again at all. G still struggles some times but even now it seems that she is moving on. As an adult I can easily see what is happening. There is no longer a responsibility of children. Only the need to make his own relationship work. And one day my children will know that. They will see things as an adult and know they were put on the back burner for someone else. They will learn of the times he was in town but didn't see them. And when they ask me I tell them the truth. They will learn that they can't trust him or count on him, just as I did. I pray the little ones forget the things that have been done to them and only remember his absance. As for G, I pray she always knows how much I love her. I pray she sees that the person who is raising her loves her more than she could possibly imagine. Because she has not and will not forget the past.
It's difficult some times watching the way the man loves his children. Difficult because I love them just as much and find it nearly impossible to understand why someone wouldn't want a relationship with them. Neither one of us would go weeks at a time without even a phone call. And while we enjoy the times their Grandparents take them for a night, we miss them. I am happy, so incredibly happy that they have this man as their dad. My heart swells when L rans to him saying dad. It's the best sound in the world to me. And when Eian says daddy my heart swells again. They see him. They see his love and his dedication to us and that is what I need to keep fighting the anger that flares up when another week goes by with no word from the man who holds the believed entitlement to the name dad.
