Being a Dad

Being a dad is exhausting.

Being a (grand)dad turns your hair gray.

I often complain about the challenges of raising my granddaughters.  My husband rarely does.  The word "saint" crosses my mind when I think of him (but never my lips--if he knew I felt this way he'd surely use it to his advantage).

When I met my husband, I was a single mother of a four-year-old daughter.  Although his friends cautioned him to think twice about getting involved, for some reason (that he probably regrets now) he did it anyway.  And he became the kind of father that every child deserves--loving, playful, moral, hard-working, and one who quickly forgot that he wasn't the birth father of his newly-adopted daughter.

He has always done whatever necessary to give us the best life possible, first with our own two daughters and now with our two granddaughters.  When I can't find the energy to play with the kids, he somehow does.  And he would do just about anything I asked of him (except eat onions and have long, meaningful conversations).  I'm a pretty lucky lady.  And I think our four girls know how fortunate they are to have him in their lives.

Happy Father's Day, Mark!