Fathers & Sons

Father’s Day, part 1

SuperDad and sons, Easter 2002

SuperDad grew up with 3 sisters.  He had no brothers.  I wanted for him to have sons. 
We didn’t know any of the first three would be boys.  Despite having ultrasounds, we never could see any tell-tale signs.  And we were okay with that.  
I was THRILLED when MusicMan was born.  I was very pleased that Encyclopedia Blue was a boy, because now MM had a brother (and also because they were so close in age, it wasn’t long before the hand-me-downs went from one dresser to the other).  Before baby#3 was born, his older brothers were 100% positive that it would be a boy.  I was actually worried that they would be wrong, and therefore disappointed.  I shouldn’t have worried.  Humorous-Juniorous got us into the “My Three Sons” club. 
Fast-forward to my 4th pregnancy:  SnakeMaster had no trouble showing his parts to the ultrasound technician.  In fact, even the older 2 boys could tell SM was a boy by looking at that prenatal picture! 
I would go shopping with my 3 little boys and my big pregnant belly.  People would tactlessly ask (in front of my children!!), “Are you hoping for a girl?”  or even “Trying for a girl this time, eh?”  I was offended!  What did they think my boys were to me?  Chopped liver?!? 
One week before SnakeMaster was born, my MIL ventured, “You have done more than enough to carry on the family name.  You can stop now.”  My husband and I fleetingly considered having a 5th one just for spite!  But the older 3 boys had no such motives…they just liked having brothers.  That same week they asked me, “When are we having a 5th boy?”  choke, gasp 

We are no longer in the “My Three Sons” club (they kicked us out when SM was born).  We aren’t going for the basketball team; we have stopped at tag-team wrestling. 
A few years ago, the boys all had matching T-shirts that said, “It’s my brother’s fault.” 
SuperDad has one that says, “AS BAD AS THE KIDS”

He really is a super dad.  Happy Father’s Day!

 

Father’s Day, part 2

kcinnova with Papa Smurf

My dad worked long hours as I was growing up, but he was still the one who often made my lunch to take to school in first grade (after that, I made my own).  He was also the one who taught me to drive…first an automatic, and then later a stick-shift (manual transmission).  I nearly ruined the clutch in his Plymouth Horizon Miser. 
He recently drove a big loop around the lower 48 states, in a personal mission to spend time with each of his 4 children and the resultant 10 grandchildren on their own “turf.”  I’m glad he did. 

I just mailed him a card thanking him for his visit and have sent him all the photos I took while he was here.  Happy Father’s Day, Dad!

 

Thunderstorm #2 of the evening is rolling in, so I’m going to post this before we lose power!