Father's Day

Usually, Mother's Day has served as an opportunity for me to think about being a mama.  I originally sat down to write this post on Mother's Day.  But the more that I thought about it, the more I realized that these thoughts are a better fit for Father's Day. 

Families like mine are lost in the shuffle of days like this (and don't get me started on the meaning of Mother's Day when one is a single mom). Sometimes, I resent these manufactured events.  But a day like this reminds me that JT is a child with a unique view of the world of families.  He knows families of all sorts: families with a mom and a dad, families with two moms, and at least one family with two dads.  But the family he knows best is his own: a family of one boy and his struggling mama. 

Someday, when he becomes a father, JT's role model for being a parent in a family will be this household of mine.  Neither parenting nor household chores have a gender at our house and there is much to be valued by that arrangement.  For one thing, I'm the only adult here and so I wield both the hammer and the frying pan.  I'm raising a son who expects to clean the toilets and look after the trash bins.  He'll nurture the baby and wash the laundry.  I'm proud of that.

I've come to understand that the child of a single parent assumes responsibilities in a very different way from a child with two parents at home.  In my weaker moments, I worry about the losses in his life.  He won't grow up with an innate knowledge of how to make a partnership succeed.  I consider that a loss.  On the other hand, he has gained an expectation of self-sufficiency and an independence that is awfully valuable.  As he grows up, I am confident that my boy has what it takes to be resilient in the face of adversity.  These lessons will grow more meaningful over time, as he becomes an adult with familial responsibilities of his own.

In the meantime, this boy and I have all sorts of conversations I could never have imagined when I daydreamed about being a mama.  We talk about bodies and their parts.  We discuss weaponry and books.  We talk about the intricacies of baseball.  We laugh (and let's face it, bicker).  We do it all together, as a family should.  And I hope that my boy understands that love has neither a gender nor a boundary.  It simply is.