Every December for the past 13 years the Serb asks me, “When is Christmas?” He’s not joking, nor is he wondering if it falls on a Wednesday. My commie husband needs reminding that Christmas is always on December 25th. I also send him a marital memo each April regarding my upcoming birthday and Mother’s Day in May. And on January 1, 2000 we got hitched, in part to ensure he would never forget our anniversary (or how many years we’ve been married).
My point being, small details like dates aren’t really his thing. Except Father’s Day.
Just like I can find a bathroom in any mall despite my innate lack of direction, the Serb instinctively knows when Father’s Day is coming. I think he enjoys this day even more than his birthday, because it acknowledges more than just being born; Father’s Day celebrates his role as a dad.
And my husband is the dream dad.
Because of my husband, my daughter will grow up knowing that she is capable and worthy. She will recognize what real love is—respectful, joyful, playful—and she will settle for nothing less.
Because of my husband, my son will know that a real man is generous with his time and feelings. That integrity, loyalty and good manners are the epitome of cool. That being true to oneself is the greatest truth.
Because of my husband, I know that I am loved because of my shortcomings. He inspires me to be a better parent, partner and person. And I will always know, and never take for granted, that when it comes to getting lucky in love, I won the lottery.
Happy Father’s Day