I love this picture for so many reasons, but mostly because my son and husband weren't aware of my taking it (which is a great feat in and of itself, especially for a clumsy dork like myself, trust me on this!) and, in my stealthiness, I was able to capture an intimate moment between father and son.
Don't EVEN get me started on how I just realized that my son still had his baby face in the 2nd grade or how blonde his hair would get by the end of the summer.
Aaaaand, how the kid was (and still is) an absolute magnet for bug bites -- look at his poor leg all bitten up and everything.
My husband, on the other hand, could stay out for hours and not have to swat at a single bug -- except for gnats, because those little suckers are relentless -- I swear, the man is a walking, talking insect repellent.
Aaaaand, he would have you believe it's because of his sour disposition, to which I will gladly call bullsh&t, each and every time AND most of you guys already know, I am married to a saint.
Lately, however, I can't say living with the both of them...under the same roof...has been a slice of heaven.
Don't get me wrong, they are wonderful human beings and both have very soft and squishy hearts (which is good, when you live with a bunch of females); it's just that together, well, they butt heads...a lot...like a couple of enraged mountain goats.
As if tensions weren't high enough, with a pre-menopausal mother in a houseful of teenage daughters, right?!?
However, when my daughters and I do battle, it's mostly about their borrowing my clothes without asking or having any intentions of giving them back...cough, cough...HOLLY...cough, cough...or consuming the LAST pod of coffee...cough, cough...HEATHER...cough, cough...and don't EVEN get me started on my youngest daughter's habit of having the last word...WORD, INFINITY!
I mean, I get it: it's like an alpha male sort of thing, right?!? RIGHT?!?
[cue pack of hyenas, laughing]
I can't help it -- growing up in a house with someone yelling at someone else, all the time -- the butting head thing is making me a little crazy. Okay, crazier than usual. So does the inevitable radio silence, afterwards.
This week?!? Totally nutty -- like in, holy crap on a cracker, can we PLEASE have a do-over?!? -- the sort of crazy that will keep even a non-pre-menopausal woman up at night...worrying about every little thing she canNOT control...btw, she is also very well aware of that fact...DAMMIT!!!
Aaaaand, then it hit her...I mean me...like a brick upside the head: it's NOT them, it's me!
Or, my stupidly high expectations of wanting to recapture that same intimate moment between the top two on my list of the most important men in my life.
Rather than just enjoy small, fleeting moments of simply being.
"Did you have a good time at the dance?"
Content with understanding that perhaps now they just are NOT meant to include me.
"Yeah, and Dad is a ninja at drop-offs and pick-ups!"
Aaaaand, well, I'm okay with that, too.
"He doesn't curse near as much as YOU do."
Then again, this male bonding thing...highly overrated...don'tcha think?!?
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