When Travis comes home around here, it’s like he’s hosting SNL – screaming, applause, females trying not to pass out.
Every single time.
This can be hard for me.
Partly, because when I come home, there is often sobbing, whining, and peeing on the floor.
And partly because I’m forced to confront how JEALOUS I would feel if Travis actually did get to host SNL before I did.
Today, I celebrate both my father and my children’s father.
My Dad taught me to ride a bike, and plunge a toilet, and drive a car. He also has the biggest check book I have ever seen (literally) and spent most of my growing up writing checks from it for things I felt entitled to…education, food, and my Columbia House 10 CD’s for 1 Penny Club bill when they finally came collecting.
But in between the plunging, and check writing, he taught me a million and one things by his life, visibility, and his coming home.
More often than not, it’s our mothers who model a woman’s worth, but our fathers who demonstrate it.
And mysteriously, and often non-verbally, they teach us the most formative lessons of how we view ourselves, God, and the craziness in between.
And working with that kind of pressure? I must admit, deserves, yes, a Mick Jagger/Jimmy Fallon Level of Applause.