Father's Day

Today is Father's Day, and the Dude is out getting a massage. I made pancakes for breakfast and put a pen in Jack's hand to sign a card I bought on his behalf.

I was very particular about marrying a man who'd be a good father. I've always felt calm and confident about the Dude when it came to kids. I watch them flock to him. He entertains them and plays and makes them happy. He enjoys the cuteness of babies and toddlers. Seeing him with Jack is a joy.

As Jack babbles, the Dude will then respond, "And then what happened?" When a diaper needs to be changed, the Dude will do it. He does bath time and takes pleasure in Jack kicking and splashing in the tub. He does Face Time with his parents throughout the week, showing off his baby, bragging about all the little things he does.

I picked the right man.

Love.

No one has it all

Sometimes it doesn't matter how old you are, because a terse conversation with an estranged parent can make you feel 17 all over again. And a conversation with someone whose memory wipes itself clean every couple years can make you feel like you're the one who's losing her mind.

I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved.
I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved.
I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved.
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright.
No one has it all.

Tomorrow I return to Toronto. Tomorrow I rejoin my real life.

In other unrelated news, the total number of relatives inqquiring into my future marital status and uterus activity: three. Not bad.