Dear Holly: What Will Really Matter a Year from Now?

6 years, 4 months.

Dear Holly,

For nearly a month, I had an event on the calendar:

I had been invited to a men’s breakfast for last Saturday, that I heard about through my F3 group.

In my mind, I had really built up this event; it was announced there was be Texas beef brisket.

However, the day before, you learned that Mommy would not be available to take you to your classmate’s Chuck E. Cheese birthday party; which just happened to be taking place during the same time as the men’s breakfast.

You began crying.

But not for long. Because I decided to take you to the birthday party instead.

And as for breakfast, I took you and your brother to a perfect Greek bakery near our house.

It was a no-brainer, choosing you over my own plans.

I just simply thought, “A year from now, what will really matter?”

The answer: Memories with you.

 

Love,

Daddy

Dear Jack: I’m the Parent Who Takes You to the Birthday Parties

11 years, 10 months.

Dear Jack,

In our household, there are certain responsibilities that Mommy and I have assigned to ourselves:

She handles the budget, the scheduling, the travel plans, and the school details.

I handle cleaning the bathrooms, taking out the garbage, vacuuming the floors, half of the grocery shopping, killing the bugs, doing my own laundry, most of my own meals, and… taking you and your sister to kids’ birthday parties.

Last Saturday, you and your sister had a 10 AM Chuck E. Cheese party 20 miles north of us that lasted 3 hours, to be followed by another 3 hour party at your friend’s house about 10 miles south of us.

And the thing is, all 3 of us had fun all day.

Even me. For some reason, I enjoy shuttling you and your sister to your friends’ birthday parties.

Whereas if I was running around town having to do shopping and other errands, I would be exhausted and angry.

But for some reason, I enjoy being involved taking you to these parties.

I suppose it’s a way I feel like I bond with you; while in some way, reliving my own childhood; 30 years later.

 

Love,

Daddy