Today I went to my cousin's basketball game at the Y. It was pretty intense 4 on 4 (actually 3/3 because the other team had a player missing) and afterward my uncle, who is also the coach, spent about 20 minutes giving my cousin tips on how to improve his game.
Little H was snuggled peacefully next to my chest. Often it occurs to me that I love him very intensely, that I'll nurture him and care for him, and that I will be a fantastic mother for him.... but I can never be his dad. I can never teach him the best stance for dribbling and shooting, how to properly hold a bat or the best way to run a football down the field. Even if he takes interest in music and theater and speech, my pep talks and tips will never mean as much to him as they would coming from a father. That father/son bond can't exist between us because I simply can't relate in that intimate way.
Part of this process is letting go of things I can't control. I just need to do my best, surround him with good role models and pray it's enough.
“Wash the plate not because it is dirty nor because you are told to wash it, but because you love the person who will use it next.” - Saint Teresa of Calcutta Every night after dinner, Niles does the dishes. Mostly, he stacks them in the dishwasher and runs it, but often he also hand washes the pots and pans, setting them in the drying rack and putting them away later when they've air-dried enough. He always clears the table and wipes it down, making sure everything is the way it was (sometimes cleaner than it was) before we sat down to eat. At the beginning of our relationship, when he’d do this I felt somewhat at a loss. Doing the dishes had always been my responsibility, along with nearly every other household chore, and I wondered what to do with myself while this other person took care of it. It was one of many mundane tasks that had always been on my already-full plate and freeing that space felt almost like cheating. A little breathing room felt suffocating in the con...
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