So far this blog is the most permanent record of the details of your childhood. And since I'm writing it, I probably sound like I'm the sole center of your universe. The sun. You've probably noticed I use the pronoun "I" a lot.
But this isn't a universe, this is a family. And you have two people here who would do anything for you, who love you beyond measure. Your father and I, we, are the center of this family and if it doesn't always sound that way, that is my fault.
Sometimes this blog has made your father uncomfortable. So I often pull back from including him in it too much, out of respect for his privacy. This probably makes it sound like I shoulder all the burden, that I carry the full weight of parenthood by myself. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Your father is our rock. He plays with you and works hard for you. He delights in you, worries about you, wonders at you. He can be ridiculously silly and calmly serious. He is our fixer, our voice of reason, our compass.
He is exactly the father I knew he would be when I married him almost eight years ago.
On Father's Day, celebrate with me how extremely fortunate we are to have him.
your Clueless But Hopeful Mama