Whatta Man

This year, my concept of what constitutes a "good father" has been stretched way beyond my wildest expectations.  I have always known that I won the lottery in terms of my baby daddy.  But this last 10 days...well, let's just say I have never felt luckier to be partnered up with Conor D. Crimmins for this wild n' crazy ride of life. 

Only Conor can make the hospital feel like summer camp for our boy with his enthusiasm and playful nature.  He even makes peeing in the bedpan seem like a freaking adventure.  You gotta pee again, Fionny?  No problem, sport  Let's see how much we collect this time!  Maybe we'll beat our record from 2 hours ago! Go get 'em, champ!

I'm serious.  He's amazing.

So I suppose it should be no wonder that my son wants nothing to do with me lately.  He is ALL ABOUT his daddy.  All about him.  I am totally chopped liver.  I'm fact, I might be minced liver if that's an option.  Whatever is the bottom of the totem pole...that's me.

I am trying to not take it personally.  But it's pretty hard to be the unwanted mommy to a sick kid.  One sweet well-meaning nurse was completed flabbergasted by the whole idea.  She made such a big deal about it.  "Wow, that's just so unusual.  I mean, because he's sick, but he doesn't want mommy.  Usually they want mommy.  That's just so interesting," she said cocking her little blonde head to one side.

I wanted to clobber her right then and there with her damn nurse's clog.

But I didn't.  I just smiled and said, "Yep, well, he's got a pretty great daddy."

And he does.  I don't mean for this whole thing to be about me.  Crap, I made it about me again, didn't I?  There I go again.

I will close by saying simply "thank you" to my better half.  Conor, I honestly don't know how I would have weathered the past 10 days without you by my side.  Know that you are loved and so very, very appreciated.  Happy Father's Day.