Parenting

I have three men I think about when Father’s Day comes around each year. My husband, my father, and my maternal grandfather. Each hold a special place in my heart, and for different reasons. These days, I feel that fathers are losing their foothold in family dynamics. So many children are being raised without a father or father figure in their life, and that is sad. According to the census bureau, 1 in 4 children live in a household without a biological, step, or adoptive father in the home. I consider myself fortunate for men I have had in my life. Let’s talk about the lasting effect each one has had on my life.

Let me start with my Dad. It’s only been in the last few years that I have felt comfortable referring to him as such. Yes, it’s complicated, but you know what? Life has a tendency to be complicated, but love always wins. My relationship with my father was interrupted when I was almost six years old. My mother, for whatever reason, decided to leave my father. I don’t know that I will ever know the full and true story, and I have learned to accept that. For years, I would cringe at the saying Daddy’s girl. I think deep down I knew I must have been one in my early childhood. And then one day….poof. I no longer was one. It is a loss that I feel to this day. My mother told me recently, in a moment of frustration with our ongoing disagreement as to the true nature of her divorce from my Dad that she knew I would always hold it against her because I had been so close to my Dad prior to their breakup. To hear about the annual Father/Daughter Dance around Valentine’s Day has always put a damper on my mood. To see the pictures of fathers and daughters dancing, and fathers showing their daughters how a man should love and respect a woman reminds me of what might have been. About the only memories I have of my Dad before my parents divorced are riding in the car with him. I also remember stopping at a car lot with him looking at cars, and I can still remember the car we looked at. An AMC Pacer. I thought it was the neatest looking car I had ever seen. From the age of six until age 11, I saw my Dad occasionally. I would visit with him, my paternal grandparents, aunt and uncle, and cousins. I reached age 11, and my mother cut off all contact with my Dad and his family. These were people that I loved, and just like that, they were out of my life. Life moved on, but it was always in the back of my mind that I would one day reconnect with my Dad and his family. I reached the age of 21, and I did just that. Unfortunately, my Granny and Granddaddy had passed away. My relationship with my Dad was awkward, and had been forever altered. Little did I know that I would only have another ten years with my Dad. He passed away from lung cancer just shy of 52. That is one of my life’s biggest regrets. We never really re-established our father/daughter bond. So Dad……I am sorry you weren’t given a fair shake. Just know that I now proudly display what few pictures I have of us together. I will see you again.

My maternal grandfather filled the gap when my mother put my father in the backseat, then eventually out of the car all together. So to speak. This is the man who I am sure wanted grandsons so badly, but was blessed with four granddaughters. He took it in stride, and didn’t miss a beat. This is a man that loved cars, fishing, bird hunting, traveling, reading, and trying out an out of town restaurant he had heard about. I hit the jackpot when it came to my Granddaddy. As us grangirls called him. He taught me how to fish, mow grass, check oil in a lawnmower and vehicle, hammer a nail, shoot a gun, write a check, buy a car, drive a car and a truck, and most of all, how to work. He passed away the day after my 23rd birthday. He lived long enough to see his first great-grandson, my oldest son. I have tried to carry on the legacy he left behind. This man from the Greatest Generation made a significant impact on my life, and I am grateful for the time and love he vested in me and my well-being.

Now last, but not least, the father of my two sons. I can proudly say that against all odds we are still together, and have raised our boys with a mother and a father under the same roof. I know there are circumstances that prevent that from happening, but I am a firm believer that it does have a positive impact on a child’s life. At a minimum, a child needs a mother and father actively involved in their life. To shelter, guide, and prepare them for the sometimes cold hard world. A son needs the tenderness of a mother, and the guiding hand of a father. Children need to see their parents in a loving relationship. A relationship that has respect, compromise, and commitment. I have always told my boys that their Dad and I have had our disagreements, and they have witnessed quite a few, but they have also watched and listened to us work through them. You might say, we have an effective Dispute Resolution process in our home. The father of my sons worked 30 years in a job that most people could not tolerate for one week. He also worked a second job for many years, and cut grass on the side. My husband and I knew from the get go that it would take love, hard work, and dedication to keep our family afloat.

Fathers that get up each day, and go to work to take care of their families deserve our utmost respect. No matter if they’re the highest paid CEO, a laborer or a garbage man. They are often overshadowed by the wonderful mothers out there, but their place in their children’s lives is just as important. Mothers, I am going to say this as directly as I can. If your relationship does not work out with the father of your children, please do not discourage or hinder their relationship with their father. Do not let it be your own personal issues that keep your children from spending quality time with their father. It will leave a wound that will never go away. A void that cannot be filled.

As I have said before, life is complicated, but I can say with all honesty that I am better for having these three men in my life. I hope each of you have or had a father or father figure in your life that made a positive impact. Make time this Sunday on Father’s Day to give the fathers in your life some extra love. Let them know how much you appreciate them. To all the present and hard working Fathers out there…know that you matter and make a difference. To all the MIA fathers out there…..time to step up your game, and be an active part of your child’s life. A good father can make all the difference in a child’s life. As Mother Teresa once said…”If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.”

Love to all,

Stella Elaine

I sat in the waiting room of my youngest son’s Pediatrician earlier this week as I have done many times before with him and his oldest brother. I looked around the waiting room surrounded by young mothers and a few fathers with their tiny babies and rambunctious toddlers. Let me just tell you. I was feeling my age. I thought to myself…”you’re probably old enough to be a mother to some of the parents you are looking at.” My motherhood journey had started in the early 90’s, and here I am in 2021 still rocking on. Of course, my babies are now taller than me. I frequently assure them that I can still take em’ out if need be. I felt somewhat out of place sitting there. I was no longer trying to soothe a baby or wrestle a toddler. I had a somewhat moody teenager sitting next to me. He had already told me he was getting too old to be in there with all the babies. How well I knew. Somewhere along the way, I had blinked, and now I had one son grown, and my youngest was on the fast track to being grown.

The parents that surrounded me in the waiting room that day seemed so foreign to me. Most of the mothers I saw were young and had tattoos on their arms and legs. I was sitting there with not the first one. Must be a generational thing. I thought. For one thing, I don’t remember having the extra money at their age for expensive colorful high definition tattoos. Secondly, tattoos were not that popular when I was younger. Somewhere along the way, mothers have changed. Maybe in their appearance, but I felt confident not the love and bonding that takes place between any good mother and her precious child. A young mother sitting beside me with her mask on was trying to soothe her two month old baby. A mother across the room was trying to hold her toddler son in check. Those toddlers can be squirrely at times. Another mother surrounded with four well behaved children was trying to fill out all the paperwork that is required these days. There I sat with my very chill 15 year old son. I felt like I had achieved an optimal level as a mother. I remember those days. Attempting to console and pacify my little babies. Later on when they reached those very active toddler years, I remember chasing them around the examination rooms. Trying to make them behave while waiting on the doctor to come in. My oldest son would accept his shots like a stoic martyr, and my youngest would fight like a wild banshee, and scream bloody murder. Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck by the time we left. The joys of motherhood. You know what? I’d all do it all over again.

I was almost 23 years old when I had my first son. I had absolutely no idea what to expect pregnancy wise or motherhood wise. It’s one of those things. You shut your eyes and dive right in. Something along the lines of being tried by fire. Motherhood is a sink or swim situation. Some days you swim like you’re in the Olympics. Other days you’re on autopilot doing the backstroke. Then, there are days you are treading water. Trying to hold it all together. Sinking is not an option. You have little human beasts (did I say that?! I meant beings.) depending on you. Are you tired? Beyond tired? Guess what? You keep going. You find an inner strength you never knew you had. My first pregnancy catapulted me into motherhood with an emergency cesarean after 15 hours of labor. I was in the hospital for a week. I thought my nurse had lost her mind when she came into my room the following morning telling me I needed to get up, and walk around. My response was..”are you aware I just had a cesarean?” She responded “yes honey, now get up and walk around.” No rest for the weary has been my Mama mantra ever since.

Almost twelve years later I had my second son. By then, I had come close to having a hysterectomy, dealt with fertility issues, and had experienced a miscarriage. His birth was supposed to be by a planned cesarean, but our “little man” decided to come early. I was awake for his birth as opposed to his brother’s birth. I remember crying when they placed him by my head so I could see him for the first time. I don’t think I truly believed I was having another baby until I laid eyes on him. He was such a tiny fella compared to his brother. My oldest son weighed almost 9 lbs at birth, and here my second son didn’t even weigh 4 ½ lbs. How in the world would I care for such a small baby? I quickly learned as I had with my first child. All babies need, regardless of size, is lots of love, care, and food. Those are the most important factors in raising happy babies. Here’s an extra tidbit…let them know from the get go that they will never be too old for a hug from their Mama. Love never fails.

One of the sweetest visions you will ever lay your eyes on is that of a sleeping baby, toddler, or small child. I remember rocking my babies singing every song I ever knew to get them to sleep. Many times, I rocked myself to sleep. I laugh at the image of a sleeping toddler. My oldest would fight a nap every time. I remember laying down with him. Me needing a nap just as much as he did, if not more. He would toss and turn. Wanting to get out of the bed. I was adamant. He needed a nap, and I needed a nap, and also some moments of peace. In the end, we would both fall asleep. I would wake up before him, and there he would lay. The picture of peaceful serenity. Of course, in all reality, it was the calm before the toddler Tasmanian devil woke up.

I have always said that you need a healthy sense of humor to get through this life. So…here I’ve been raising two boys for the last 27 years. I grew up with a sister and two female cousins. My poor grandfather had been outnumbered by all of us females growing up. Like any good man, he took it in stride. He did a good job in preparing me for my life raising boys. I grew up shooting hoops, riding my bicycle, building forts, playing softball and kickball, mowing the grass, learning to drive a truck, and fishing. I was never a girly girl so being a “boy” mom was fine by me. To be surrounded by good looking men folks the rest of my life is no bad thing. Although, they can be aggravating at times. For the most part, keep them fed, and all will be well.

As mothers, we all go through trials that can break our spirit if we let them. Days when we could easily stay in bed. Nights that you think will never end with babies that are sick or refusing to stay in bed. It’s during those tough times that you draw on your inner strength, put your big girl panties on, and push through. Those are the years you come into your own. Over time, the uncertain woman that you used to be will blossom into a woman that can slay dragons, if need be. Believe me, there will be many “dragons” along the way. Both of my sons have been the truest of blessings to me and my husband. Children give you focus like nothing else in this world. My husband frequently jokes that we’ll be using walkers at our youngest son’s graduation. I’ve got news for him…I will be moonwalking across the graduation stage when our youngest graduates! Common core curriculum about killed me! It will be time for one heck of a road trip!

This is and will alway be The Good Stuff.

All the best,

Stella Elaine

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