Yes, I know yesterday the internet was inundated with praises of fathers- our own, our husbands, our wonderful priests. However, we were traveling, traveling, traveling yesterday, so I didn’t get a chance to post. Indeed, both Ryan and my dad truly lived their fatherhood callings via 12 hours in the car with whiney little people [and wives/daughters].
Even though it’s late [quite fitting for my procrastinating self], I wanted to say “I love you” to the man who formed me into the woman I am today, whose patience and wisdom is the voice most resounding in my conscience, who is the best story teller you will ever meet, who worked soooooo many difficult, long hours to provide for us, who displays unwavering strength in faith and conviction, and who has taken on the role of “Papa” with grace and laughter. When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Dad.
As a mother for 6 months now, I have witnessed beauty beyond my imagination. Without question, one of the greatest of these beauties has been seeing my husband become a father. Almost every day I am rendered speechless by Ryan’s never-ever-ever ending patience with Mena and me. He not only tolerates my crazy, but truly loves me through it and helps me be a better woman and mother. He has these special ways of holding her, of communicating with her that are so unique, so “Daddy,” that it makes my heart race with affection. And she loves him dearly too. In fact, I can’t even feed Philomena with Ryan in the room, because she’ll ignore me and her food source just to gaze and giggle at him. It brings tears to my eyes [the good kind] to think about their relationship developing over the years. I have no doubt that- like me- she might have difficulty finding a husband, because of the high standards set before her.
This is the point in which, if I was truly honoring Ryan, I should undercut all this sugary-sweetness with a wry, sarcastic comment. However, this is my blog, not his, and I can be as sappy as you want. So there.