my hero

I like to call Benjamin my hero.

Because he is. This little guy is my guy and my reason for doing all that I do, day in and day out. I wouldn’t have it any other way because at the end of every little storm he’s there waiting with a big sloppy kiss. But lately I can’t help but notice that Benjamin is growing up on me.

Today we had a snow day. My office, his school – both closed. Before I found out our office was closing I sent my co-workers this e-mail, thought I would share…

Benjamin has a snow day – that means I have to take one with him.

HA HA – SUCKERS!!!! Having kids is great – you should all go out and make one immediately!

I’m so professional. I love it. Not sure if anyone in my office found that e-mail as funny as I did, but it had me laughing for a good two minutes. I am such a dork for admitting that and sharing it. Please don’t make fun of me. And to all of my co-workers – thanks for putting up with me all of the time. I know I can be a pain in the ass.

After a morning and afternoon inside Benjamin and I finally broke through the ice sheet over my door and hopped outside to get to work.

While I shoveled (finally found one in my garage) Benjamin used his push cart to clear snow up and down the drive way. And while I heated up the car he spent a few minutes scraping the ice off of his form of transportation.

He’s also cleaning up after himself, serving himself juice, even helping me find things. But he still throws tantrums and needs tons of cuddling. It must be an odd place for a little man – on the verge of discovering so much.

Today while surfing through my archives I found this post – Prince Charming Can Kiss My Ass – it’s a little testament to Benjamin’s creation. Something you should read if you missed it… short but sweet and, as always, filled with some thought provoking questions.

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And also, two of my dearest single parent blogging friends would appreciate a second or two of your time. [click to continue…]

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In 1989, my father sent me this letter while on a business trip in San Francisco.

Dear Alaina!

This is a letter for you from your father who loves you from here to heaven and back, which simply is a distance that no person can even begin to imagine, until that person has been as fortunate as I have been in being a part of your creation and your life.

Let’s always be honest and truthful with each other so we can always be close and not be separated.

Your only,

Dad

Ten years later he died of cancer.

My five brothers and sisters and I, our mother – we were shattered. Our family torn to the core. We’re still picking up the pieces. He was our rock. He was humble, modest, reserved but filled with joy and love for the world and for life. As a doctor he healed people for a living, but he also healed their souls with his eyes, his understanding and his compassion.

When I first started this blog, a brilliant commenter Tim Chard suggested I write a letter to my father. I had written about my fears of commitment, my fears of loss. Tim asked me if my father would want me to carry guilt and fear. So, here it is… it’s long, I can’t read it again because my eyes are flooded. So bear with the long form, this is just what came out. [click to continue…]

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