2 1/2 Dads

A couple of nights ago my son and I were out talking in the courtyard. It was really late, about 2 am, when he said something I thought was at first odd and then I thought it was about the nicest thing he had ever said. We were talking about how he has the best of both of his dad’s personality traits. I refer to him as our Sheldon, referring to the character on “The Big Bang Theory”. Sheldon is unrelenting in his need to be right, his need to keep certain things his and his alone, like his spot. That describes my eldest son perfectly. A geek in every way, he is acutely aware of if anyone touches any of his belongings, will fight to the death over his usual seat and is certain when he is right. Our Sheldon got so much of his anal retentive personality from his father. His father had certain things that if not done correctly drove him nuts. Fold his socks the wrong way and you ended up getting a 35 minute tutorial. Trust me when I say it was easier to do those wacky, seemingly nothing things his way. For me being married to him, it all seemed as if it were in the roommate agreement. If you watch the show you will understand. I see Dan in our son every day. Mike is in there too. My son has acquired all kinds of traits from Mike, some which drive me batty, others I just smile, knowing he is the perfect combination of the two men. What my son said was, “I am so lucky, I had 2 ½ fathers.” I stared at him for minute completely confused. I kept doing what I was sure the most basic math and always came out with the answer of two. “Where do you get the ½?” I asked puzzled. “Well, I started out with Dad, and then got Mike and in the mean time I had you. You are the half.” My eyes rolled up inside my head searching for the meaning when he said, “Look, you are kind of a dude. Every one of my friends knows what a beast you are.” It was then I smiled, building to a laugh. I have been referred to as a beast, thug, and a dude. It is not the impression I had hoped would be my legacy, but I had to admit that I knew where it came from. I have stood nose to chest with my sons stating with great conviction, “Brought ya in, take your ass out.” I meant it, too.

I have been pressed at times from outsiders to show my worth as a mother, father and a fighter. I didn’t understand until after Dan had died how not having a father figure made kids vulnerable to outsiders, especially other adults. I had been shocked by how adults would bully my kids and me if I didn’t stand as tall as I could, as puffy as I could, defending all of us. I learned that lesson the hard way and never forgot. I had witnessed people who should have behaved better, push their way into our lives and trying to do emotional harm to my kids, for no other reason then there was no big, strong man to defend them. I always knew how important dads were, but this made it crystal clear to me that kids without dads had a much harder time in social circumstances. What ended up happening to me was I morphed into a hybrid of both father and mother. When needed I could stand up to the biggest coach, tallest teacher, scariest priest, most condescending principal and kick verbal ass if I had to, but I never had to get physical. Had I been pushed further to defend my kids, I probably would have gone the distance. Once during an altercation with a neighbor it nearly came to blows. Win, lose or draw, I was ready to be the man of the house. It was one of the few times my kids were absolutely speechless. I charged like a wild bull and the neighbor fled, sputtering profanities from a safe distance. It was after that my reputation of being the hybrid started to grow. My kids knew I was no push over and if you dared to try and do any kind of damage in any way shape or form to my kids, you had better be prepared for the dad in me. When those few moments happened, I surprised myself at my own strength. The really fascinating part was my voice dropped a solid octave when I was really pissed. My boy was right, I guess, he had 2 ½ fathers. I, being the half, evidently made me full of tiger blood. I looked at my man/child. He is becoming so much more than I could have hoped. My mind rifles through memories as I gaze at his chiseled features, remembering him as a very small boy, so sweet, so innocent, when no one had died, or moved, or changed. He is a good man, a man with shared traits of all who came before him. Although, I only got credit for a half, I am in very good company with Mike and his dad. It is probably the best compliment he could have given me. It is certainly one I will always remember.