father’s day apologies

Dear Earl the Butcher,

I’m sorry I didn’t trust you with our daughters. I mean, I said I did, and in my heart I totally did, but on day six of parenthood (when you went back to work) I figured out a faster way to change a diaper and it all went downhill from there. In retrospect, I can now see that you survived 27 years without my diapering tutelage.

And my superlative dishwasher-loading suggestions.

And my tips on how to simultaneously make meat sauce and cook pasta.

Because I may have squeezed more dishes into the machine, but yours came out cleaner. And I may have cooked the meal faster, but the girls liked your meat sauce better. And we’re done with diapers, so what did it even matter? (I should probably also apologize for turning everything into a race. It’s not a race. It’s never been a race. Why am I still running?)

Because I do trust you. With all of my heart. You love us and provide for us better than any other man ever could. In fact, after a week of doing this on my own, I am so overflowing with trust that I might just send the girls to the airport in a cab to pick you up.

Welcome home!

The luckiest girl in the world,
CK

PS: Since I’m apologizing, I might as well toss in a few sorries for the lack of food in the fridge, the state of the floors, and the fact that I didn’t do any laundry while you were away. So I hope you’re not hungry. Or looking for clean boxers. (Good thing you look hot in your emergency briefs.)

Married 11 years • Kids ages 7 & 4

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Dearest, Boo:

Three words.

Three words I never thought I would be able to say but, after six years of a moderate to blissful marriage and two beautiful, rarely satanic toddlers later, I am ready to say it.  The three words you have longed to hear–that have dwelt within my heart but that my head would not allow.  I stand here today, in front of the entire blogosphere, bearing my soul.

 you. were. right.

The time I spent 3 hours trying to convince you to sell all our belongings, move to a trailer park and work for amazon.com–you were right.  I don’t want the kids to grow up learning fractions by making meth.  I’m sorry, you were right.

The time we found an unopened gallon of milk in the middle of a busy street and I tried to convince you it would be fine to drink because it was cold outside and the jug was from Whole Foods.  I’m sorry, you were right.

The time I worried about our 2 year-old Magnus, who insisted on wearing a dress to school.  You said let him do it, I was worried he would be teased but I relented and now, because of your bravery and ninja-like parenting skills and his keen fashion sense, he’s the most popular kid in the school.  I’m sorry, you were right.

You may have been reluctant to be a dad, but you are the finest dad I have ever seen and our children are nothing short of blessed to have you in their lives.  I love you, Boo.  And that time you decided to spend the rest of your life with me…yeah, you were right.

Love,
Boo

Married 6 years • Kids ages 4 & 2

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To my Adorable Husband,

I would like to begin by apologizing for the fact that you never get laid.  It is ironic that we both “got lucky” when these beautiful little creatures were made, but it is now because of them that our “luck” has run out.  I sometimes watch you change after we put the kids to bed and I am captivated by your washboard stomach, bulging biceps, and broad shoulders.   Why does your body get to look like that while the extra skin on my stomach makes my bellybutton look like it’s constantly frowning?  For a moment, I think about making my move, but then I realize that I do not even have the energy to floss my teeth and my boobs are so full of milk that you might end up getting a surprise midnight snack, so once again, I just pass out.  I want you to know that you are an incredible father, a fantastic husband, and I have hope that one day I will jump your bones just like I did before our little bundles of joy arrived .  But for the meantime, I will just buy you an extra bottle of lotion.

With Love,
Your Exhausted Wife

Married 7 years • 2 kids aged 3 and 7 months

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Dear Babeoh,

I’m sorry… It’s a “blanket” of I’m sorry you can lay over everything I do that’s annoying, over bearing and WAY controlling. But here are a few I think needed to be said directly…You had to bury the cat – at midnight- in the rain, you pick up the dog pooh, you had to help shower me the week after my c-section…a FAR cry from the hot, steamy shower sex in the beginning huh? (don’t judge this one just yet newlyweds), you handle all the returns and exchanges – I just CAN’T! – you cleaned out 5 years of my car junk when I had to trade it in, you make all the calls: the therapist, take out, the vet and the never ending – well, just call and see if they have it, you ALWAYS go pick up the food, you have to fix all the broken stuff “Ummmmm…THIS is broken, I need it now”, you tweeze the leftover armpit hairs that the wax missed (above and beyond dude – you need your own Bud Light commercial).  Most of all, I’m SO sorry I know everything better, that I tell you so AND judge you when you don’t do things my way.

Love,
SL

PS. I’m NOT sorry these things don’t fall on MY to-do list. (Again newlyweds…just wait)

Married 3 years ( together 5) • 1 awesome (almost) 8 month old

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Dear BC,

I’m so sorry that for years my go-to excuse to bail on parties that seemed lame was “Bob has  diarrhea”.   I think my constant fibbing may have inadvertently led to your constipation.  And that kind of stinks – literally.  It seemed like a harmless white lie when I was telling it but in retrospect maybe you didn’t want people I worked with to think you had irritable bowel syndrome.  And yet, again and again I told the diarrhea lie and now you can eat a whole Mexican food truck worth of beans and still go days without using the bathroom.  I can’t help but think it’s kind of my fault.  And the only way I know to make up for it is to cover for your gas during all public appearances.  So if you see me shaking my head and holding my nose while I point to a child in a restaurant or an elderly person in church, rest assured, I know the fumes came from you but I will protect that secret at all costs.  Cause I love you.  Happy Father’s Day!

Love,
MMC

Married 10 years • Kids ages 6 & 4

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Dear Dumb Dad,

Thanks for being a part of my baby story. I know, I know. It’s nothing even remotely like what I made you watch with me on TLC when I was pregnant with #1 but we both know that if we would have watched Bloody-near-death-experience story none of this would’ve popped off and we both would’ve missed out on all of this parenting awesome. So I’m sorry, but also, you’re welcome!

Love,
Dumb Mom

Married 9 years • Kids ages 10, 7 & 4

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Dear NewDaddy,

On this, your first Father’s Day, I have so much to be grateful for.  And also much to apologize for.  There were all the times I got weepy and couldn’t explain why… The fact that despite promising myself I would never become That Wife, I can’t seem to stay awake past 8:30 to hear about your day… let alone do anything else!  And then there’s the time I talked to you like you were five.

You know the time.  The Bean was about six weeks old and he had opted to join us for dinner rather than go to sleep when the book said he was supposed to go to sleep.  You made dinner (again) and I held Bean while trying to eat one-handed (again).  He started to fuss and you offered to hold him so that I could eat.  I said no, not because I didn’t want a chance to eat like a normal person, but because I went into full on Martyr Mode (again).  I was determined to balance everything- literally.  But you insisted on taking Bean, who was now wailing as though someone had pinched him.

I handed him over and you turned Bean around to face you saying, “Hey Bean! No more crying.  You wanna try a trick?”  Then you held our baby upside-down.  You did so for the briefest of moments, his head and body were fully supported at all times, and it still scared the ever loving crap out of me.  But it worked.  He stopped crying.

However, before my sleep-deprived brain had time to register that this was a good thing, I responded loudly, “Hey now, NO! We do NOT hold the baby upside-down! We are gentle with the baby! GENTLE!”

You froze.  So did I.

Did I just use the same tone of voice and crazy royal “we” that I used when our 5-year-old nephew pounded, I mean,patted, our son right on the soft spot?!?!  Oh no.  I TOTALLY did.  How do I take that back? How do I apologize? How do I admit that that was incredibly obnoxious?

Easiest answer?  Don’t.

At least not until 3 months later. But 3 months later, I really, REALLY mean it when I say, I’m sorry.

Thanks for reminding me that every once in a while, it’s okay to flip things around to get a different perspective.

Bean and I are so lucky to have you.

Loveyoumore,
NewMommy

Celebrating 14 years together, 4 years of marriage and 4 months of parenthood

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To my husband, best friend, and baby-daddy,

I’m sorry that you’ve had to learn more than you ever wanted to about Female Issues and Moods, and I’m sorry to tell you that honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I’m sorry you have to contend daily for status as Man of the House with your very own mini-me, and that you win that battle just as frequently as you lose. I’m sorry that you’ve unwittingly become resident bug-killer around here, and that our kids have inherited my trait of being deathly afraid of bugs, so there’s no likelihood you’ll pass that torch anytime soon. Mostly, I’m sorry to have put you in a position where at any given moment, you feel as though your heart could burst with the love you have for these little people we’ve created. One thing I won’t apologize for, though, is choosing you to be my co-captain on this crazy ride. It’s been bumpy here and there, but I can’t wait to see where the road leads us. Happy Father’s Day.

Love,
Melissa

Married 10 years • Kids ages 9, 7 & 5

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To my man -

Well, to begin with, I’m sorry that I told you newborns are easy since they just sleep all the time.  In my defense, it had been almost 7 years since my last newborn, and, well, you always say I’d forget where my head was if it weren’t attached to me. What were we talking about?

Ah, yes, parenthood.  Well, Mister, I am constantly amazed by you.  Not everyone realizes the unique role a stepparent must play, but you got it from the beginning and you make it look easy.

You were right there for everything in childbirth.  Hell, I had my glasses off and refused to look at the placenta.  You saw more of our daughter’s birth than I did.  I will never forget the sound of your voice when our daughter emerged — it was like wonder and joy and hope with just a touch of healthy fear all rolled into one beautiful split second.

Thank you for being vigilant about choking hazards, epi pens and rare childhood diseases that are written about only in the New Yorker.  Thank you for being my rock and my support, and a superstar dad.  I just adore the way that Elliott gleefully recounts video game strategy with you, and the way that Emilia crawls into your lap for storytime.  I am so incredibly lucky to be your wife and partner in crime.

I love you.

Love,
mamalicious

Married 2.5 years • Kids ages 8 & 15mo

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