As my husband drove the van full of exhausted children the 45 minutes home from the Strawberry Festival today I couldn’t help but reach my hand out to stroke his shoulder. I was struck by how much I wanted to be close to this man I’ve known for years through three moves, three pregnancies, four children and a whole lot of years breastfeeding. He and I haven’t been alone together since we were married (I suppose that you might count the first few months but Punkin was already there just not out here)–he’s always been a father. It has never mattered.
I looked at him (and back at the children, checking to see who was still awake) and felt awed at the amount of love I felt for him–my friend, partner and father to my children. I knew in that moment (and in many preceding moments and many to come) that I am incredibly lucky that I met him. He is the best man (not most perfect) and one of the best Dads I know. I know that my love and adoration for him (and his for me) shines in our children and my hope for them is that one day they too will find a love like the love their father and I share.
So, happy Father’s Day to the father of my children.
I’m so happy my children (and I) have you.