To The Man Who Holds My Heart and My Children:

I sit here, at the end of what I am certain is our most difficult parenting day to date, completely in love with the man you have become. When we met those ten and a half years ago, I knew there was something about you, something I wouldn’t be able to find in anyone else. Now, I know that is true. I’m not certain what exactly I did to deserve you, but I will tell you I do not take a single ounce of your love for granted.

My love, you are compassionate.

You don’t hesitate to scoop our babies up into your arms after they fall down and get hurt. You even sympathize with their devastation over a broken toy and tickle their sadness away. In the midst of my own tears, you quickly wrap me in a silent hug and let me bury my head into your chest until my grief has subsided. No matter how big or small the situation, you listen, you understand, and you care.

You are the most unselfish person I have ever met.

At the end of a long day at work, you come home, do the dishes, start the laundry, and still somehow find time for raucous Daddy Wrestlemania sessions with our kids. It makes me grin from ear-to-ear when I hear them giggling and squealing with glee, knowing that with each flerbert to the belly or tickle behind the knee, our kids’ self confidence is skyrocketing.

The kids and I are always top priority, even above yourself. Quite often, even when dinner is waiting for you when you get home, you don’t end up eating until after they are tucked in and the house is settled. Yet, I have never heard you complain.

You have come home early from work on days when I just simply need you there with me. You cared for me and completely took over all of the housework when I was dealing with awful morning sickness. You surprise me with coffee for no real reason at all, other than you love me. You run errands, take the kids out to the park to give me a break, and let me sleep in on the weekend, all at the expense of your own time and comfort. You, my love, are incredibly unselfish.

Best of all, you are hilarious.

You are unafraid of being yourself, and because of this, you are teaching our children to behave the same way. What an amazing gift you are instilling in our kids! I cannot tell you how many times I have dissolved into a fit of laughter over watching you play with the kids.

Say they want you to act like a monkey. Well, you don’t settle for a little lame armpit scratching and “Ooh-ooh-aaaaah!” Oh no. You go full out. You crouch down, knuckles on the ground and fully imitate a gorilla making the loudest “Oooh-ooooh-OOOHAAAAAAHAAAH!” you can. The kids are so entertained and so excited about their daddy, the monkey, they can hardly even muster the strength in their little legs to run away. Instead, they often run toward you, just to be caught in the Monkey Daddy tickle grasp.

I think the tee-shirt you proudly wear tells it all: Men Who Change Diapers Rule. You are proud of your Daddy-ness, and aren’t afraid to flaunt it.

Most guys would cower at the idea of doing “Mom stuff,” but you’re different. You don’t hesitate to put your newborn daughter in a wrap and wear her against your chest. One day, when she’s older and into girly things, I wouldn’t doubt that you’ll be right down on the floor with her, having a tea party, pretty pink cup in hand.

You aren’t afraid of these things, because you have an amazing sense of humor about yourself and about life. You know what is important, and you know that being a good dad makes you a great man.

And in the end, you are a manly man.

You love sports, time with the guys, and poker. You deal with the “guy stuff” of the house, like car maintenance and yard work. You always pick out action movies to watch and would be perfectly content eating hamburgers smothered in barbecue sauce every day for the rest of your life. You are my man, my protector, and my security.

Some may argue that a “real man” does the manly stuff around the house, all the dirty work and sweat labor. I would beg to differ, based on the real man I see in you. Real men kiss owies and sing lullabies. Real men change diapers and don’t flinch at being peed on by newborns. Real men love their kids and don’t hesitate to let them know at every possible opportunity.

You are as real as they get.

I could not ask for a better husband, father to my children, or best friend. I see the adoration in the eyes of our children when they greet you at the door after work squealing, “Daddy!” and smothering you in hugs and kisses. I see it throughout the day when you take just a little extra time to play cars or Hide and Seek. I see it at night, when you kiss them and tuck them into their beds. I pray that I am half the parent to our children that you are. I pray for half of your patience, your compassion, and your unselfishness.

But mostly, I am thankful. I am thankful for the man I fell in love with, the man you have become, and the man you will grow to be. We are all so lucky to have you in our lives. You have singlehandedly made this world a better place by being the amazing man you are.

So, this Father’s Day, though we don’t have money for fancy gifts and though our children are behaving more like wild beasts than our sweet little offspring, know that we appreciate what you do for us. Know that we love you. Most of all, know that there isn’t a single person in the entire world who could ever come close to filling your shoes.

Forever yours,
Your adoring wife
~~~

Lindsay Maddox is a freelance writer who seeks to find humor in parenting every day. In addition to nonfiction writing, she will have several fiction short stories published in upcoming Accentuate Anthologies. To learn more about Lindsay, check out her website and blog at http://lindsaymaddox.com.

Dear Mama,

It’s Mother’s Day and everyone I know is sending flowers and candy to their real mothers to celebrate. But you and I know that I can’t do that. My mother said she just couldn’t handle one more baby. She cried in your arms and you begged her to stay; to wait, to think; to stop the drugs and the life that sucked her very breath away. But she was too young, too foolish, and too lost in herself. So you said yes, and took me and showed me the love my own mother could not give. I never knew or understood the pain you felt that first night when you bundled me up, took me home, and held me as I cried long into the night.

You were there when I took my first step and lost my first tooth. You held my hand on the first day of school as I skipped to class in my new shoes. I said you were my mother and no one asked why you were so much older than all the other moms were. You made cupcakes for birthdays and took me to piano lessons. I never questioned your love, support, or kindness. You simply smiled and called me “sweet daughter” and that was enough for me.

I never knew you were anything but my mother until the day I saw my birth certificate when I applied for my drivers’ permit. The day, the place, the time…all of these were right, but the names shown as mother and father were strangers to me. Who were these people? My heart broke when I realized you were not my mother at all, but someone else, someone with no connection to me. Who were you and why was I here?

You did not flinch when I told you I hated you and I turned away from the only security that I had ever known. You did not stop me when I cried for my real mother and tried to find her. I was so young, foolish, and lost in myself. You still called me “sweet daughter,” but now it just wasn’t enough for me.

You simply waited until the day when I was broken enough to listen to the story of my birth. You pulled me into your arms and held me as I trembled and cried as I had done the first night we were together. You whispered and talked about my mother, young and afraid; the young girl who found herself pregnant again after my father kicked her out. A poor mother with other children she could barely feed because she had no job and no hope for anything better. My mother could not hold me when she saw that I was a girl, a little piece of herself to remind her of her failures. On the night I was born, I met the mother who loved me so much she gave me away to the woman who would love me even more.

I spun from being someone with no mother, alone and afraid, to having two mothers who loved me enough to sacrifice all they were because of me. My birth mother knew she could never be the mother I needed. You were older, wiser, and already knew how much responsibility a new baby can be. You were the woman who loved me from the first moment and who was not afraid to give me a home. You never looked back wishing you could have made a different decision. I finally realized that you had always been my mother no matter what the birth certificate said. Just as on our first night together, I cried and you pulled me close and called me “sweet daughter,” and that was enough for me.

So on this Mother’s Day, I am proud to call you “Mama,” which means much more than “mother” will ever mean to me. My real mother loved me enough to give me away, but you loved me far more to take me in. I celebrate our love and our life together as more than mother and daughter on this Mother’s Day. I have always been your “sweet daughter,” and that is enough for me.

Happy Mothers’ Day, Mama.

Your “sweet daughter,”
Angela

This letter is dedicated to the women who choose to be mothers when others cannot.

~~~

Cindy Wolfe believes in personal fulfillment through education and training. Her experience as a manager, author, professor and student gives her a unique view about motivating others to succeed. She lends encouragement to readers at her thinkPhD blog. Read more from Cindy on Associated Content.