Yesterday FireDad ran in the our county’s Fatherhood Initiative 5K and Family Walk. We were supposed to go walk while he ran, but I was coming off a series of bad back days and he told me to stay home. I was bummed, but I figured he was having a good morning with his friends. A quiet morning with his not-as-loud-as-his-kids friends.
He came home with a medal.
A first place medal for the 30-40 age group.
When I told the boys that we needed to get a picture with Daddy and his medal, LittleBrother piped up: “Can I get my medal too?” Earlier this week, both boys received medals for the end of their respective t-ball league seasons. I smiled and agreed that would be a good idea and they scattered off to retrieve their medals.
I set them up in front of the side door to the garage and they all smiled.
Today FireDad is working. We’re going to stop in and visit at the Fire Station around lunch time with presents and treats. I’ll probably snap some pictures. The boys’ voices will echo in the garage as they climb on fire trucks. It will be another Father’s Day, firefighter style. An familiar, every-third-day absence that, for the most part, simply feels like ordinary in our home. On days like today, however, his presence is more keenly missed.
But the 1st place win made me smile.
I get offended on behalf of my husband when people dismiss or diminish the fact that there are amazing fathers in our society. Active, amazing dads who aren’t afraid of changing diapers or talking about feelings as little ones try to make sense of their world. Dads who throw away their beloved Pittsburgh Pirates hat — without a second thought — when their son pukes all over it in a restaurant. Dads who would move mountains to help their children realize that they can do anything they put their hearts and minds to — with a little help from family as well.
If ever there was a first place dad in the 30-40 range, it would be my husband. My sons are extremely lucky. I am extremely blessed.
Happy Father’s Day, FireDad!