Me with my girls, who are not thrilled that I used this somewhat old picture
Dear girls,
I haven’t sat down and written you a letter in a while, so I’d thought I’d take a minute to tell you how deeply you are loved. And I’m putting it on my blog for the world to see. I’m so proud of the people you are, and that you’re continuing to become.
Watching our old home movies has really gotten me thinking this past weekend. I didn’t even want kids! You girls all know that. But from the minute Brittany was born, I was hooked on what it feels like and what it means to be the daddy of a little girl, and I was blown away to realize that Kyra coming along didn’t mean I had to love Brittany less. My capacity for love just increased. Then it increased again when Anna was born. Then it stopped increasing because – well, because mom and I made darn sure of it. [Read on, girls. No more yuckies.]
So what does being a little girl’s daddy mean? It means that no matter how bad you screw up, you’re still someone’s hero. It means that even when you’ve acted shamefully, forgiveness is there before you even ask. It means kisses and cuddles that come without strings, without condition, without limit, and without asking – they’re just there. Always. It means people who are heartbroken when I leave town, who sleep a little less and a little lighter, who ask mom a hundred times a day when I’m coming home. (She reassures them, despite the fact that she’s sleeping less and lighter too). It means still hearing those voices when I return – voices that have changed but that are still music to my ears. “Daddy’s home!”
It means having a chance to set the standard for who you will one day fall in love with and marry, showing you what it means to be cherished and treasured. It means loving you enough to not give you everything you want. It means going to sleep at night knowing that no matter how bad my day has been, all is right with the world, because three little bodies are safe in their beds. It means seeing you emerge from your room in the morning, hair every which way, a rosy blush on your cheeks, and taking a mental snapshot, hoping I will be able to replay it every day after you’re gone, and already knowing it’s one of the things I am going to miss the most. It means sitting next to you at night talking about your day and hearing what’s up in your worlds. It means being the one you come to when your heart gets broken, and the one who reassures you a thousand times a day that you are (empirically, in point of fact) beautiful. It means looking at your mom and being astonished at what she and I have accomplished together, knowing we’ve tried hard to be good parents but let’s face it – we weren’t good enough to account for any of you.
