Father's Day Fun

At the risk of sounding whiny, I have to say I am tired of all these divorce firsts.  I thought the first Mother's Day without a dad in the picture was bad enough.  How come nobody thought to tell me the first Father's Day would be even worse?

I hadn't realized just how big a deal Father's Day was for our family.  It always falls on or around my dad's birthday, for one thing.  As a kid, it was the excuse for a four-generation family reunion and the all-American family baseball game in the hay field.  And there was food.  Boy, was there food. 

Over the years, the family kept getting bigger, so the party slowly got trimmed down.  We still have dozens of people, but now it's mostly my aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings, and our kids.  (My kids see all their cousins instead of my dad seeing all his!) 

I like that big family stuff.  I always have.  Even when we're squabbling amongst ourselves, it feels good to get together and remember that blood really is thicker than water, and even though you can't pick your relatives, there will never be any place like home. 

So this year, as I drove my empty car seats to my sister's, I admit that I felt pretty darn sorry for myself.  My kids were with their dad.  And his parents.  In Boston.  Seeing the Constitution and the destroyer and making friends and memories . . . and I was missing it. 

I HATE all the fun memories they are going to make without me.  For just a moment I want to be three and scream, "IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!"  And frankly, it's NOT fair.  And I don't like it.  And I never will.  So there. 

But I also felt a little bad for my kids as well.  Their cousins were all there, whom they ADORE.  They were swimming in Auntie's pool.  (My kids love to swim.  We haven't set up our pool yet; I'm waiting til we come back from Maine in a couple weeks.  Last year I never quite conquered the green after leaving for a week in the summer.  I'm just not up to that this year!) 

I think I also felt worse knowing that my kids were having a great time and, as long as I didn't say anything, they would not miss missing the party.  (Very selfish.  I know.  Can't help it.)

I also felt bad for my dad and my grandfather for not getting to see them.  (Although Pop did, so that's something positive.) 

I won't try to admit there isn't something relaxing about being at a party without kids, but I also have to admit that I looked around in a panic more than once because I didn't know where my kids were.  I'd scan the pool, the swing set, the woods, and the porch in a flash . . . just before I remembered they were somewhere else having fun without me. 

And though it was very nice of their dad to text me a picture of them looking adorable, I couldn't help but feel like he was pouring salt in a deep, gaping wound. 

I guess the one good thing is I no longer have to try to come up with a great Father's Day gift for their dad.  Every year I would try to think of something special and feel like I had failed miserably.  Now I can let the kids decide.  I don't necessarily feel we've increased the quality of gifts any, but at least I'm no longer responsible for it! 

This year, Ranita picked out a shovel.  Chinchita selected a pink Barbie birthday card with a paper doll Barbie (in her skivvies) and paper dress-up clothes.  (I really did try talking her out of that one . . . but how can you argue with a two-year old when she keeps yelling, "I want to get Barbie for Father's Day!")  I didn't even know she knew who Barbie was. 

So, all that to say:  today is a little over six months from the day I found out my marriage was finished.  In ten days I will no longer be married.  I have already passed the first Christmas, New Year's, wedding anniversary, Ranita's birthday, Valentine's Day, Memorial Day, Mother's Day, his birthday, and Father's Day of our broken home.  All I have left is my personal "D" Day, Independence Day, Chinchita's birthday, and my birthday.  The year of the "Big 'D'" will be over. 

I can't wait.