To The Fathers.

Of all species and of all mankind.  Those called Dad.  Or Daddy. Or Papa. 

It's your day. 

 

To those that stepped into the game midway, or late in the game.  For those that sat in Christmas programs wanting to pull your eye lashes out. For those that changed shitty diapers overflowing onto clothes. For those that paced the halls waiting for a child to be born. For the tears that streamed down your face as those first cries wailed out.  For those that cried at the first milestones. For those that stayed up late to greet the child returning from a date, or dance. For those that attended meetings at schools, and back to school nights.  For those that helped them learn to ride a bike.  For those that stood patiently along the sidelines of a game, trying hard to not lose your cool if your child didn't get the right amount of play time.  For those that wished upon the stars, or to God to save your child from the C word.  For those that yelled profanities out of frustration under their breath versus to their face.  For those that cried over all "the firsts".  For those that sat shotgun teaching a teen to drive. (huge kudo's). For those that navigated through college applications. For those that walked your daughter down the aisle as you handed her off.  For those that taught a boy to fish. Or to mow a lawn. 

Or to check the engine of a car.  Or in our case, had the patience of teaching a busy boy to change oil in a boat without losing your shit--(not that I know by experience or anything)

To my father, whom will receive just a letter and a card this year from his baby daughter.  The one that tested and pushed all the buttons.  For those of you that don't know the younger Lisa, I was a handful.  But so was he.  

I didn't get a gift this year, simply because the days got the best of me, and I seriously didn't get my shit together.  I sent him love.  On paper.

To you mothers out there pulling a double and doing daddy duty too.  I raise two glasses in the air to you.  Because, I am living proof, it's doable, even though looking back, howinthehelldidwedoit.  

Happy Fathers Day weekend friends. 

I hope the sun shines softly, the wind blows just right, and that whatever cool drink floats your boat, is in your hand.

To Bill.  To the man that stepped in to me as three.  Thank you.

Glad I could teach you a thing or two about patience.  Juuuust kidding. You own more patience than any man I've ever met.  So many times I feel like the luckiest girl sitting next to you. 

To Kris, you're a good doggo daddy.  Those puppers are lucky to be loved by you. 

Big love, and remember to step away from that little screen in your hand.

Look up, this life is pretty beautiful..

This Mama Lisa