They Run

When people probe me about what it's like being a working mom, my answer is always easy, joyful and full of pride.

"I feel like I'm giving her the best gift."

"How so?", others press.

"She gets to be around other kids during the day.  She gets to do arts and crafts and go to the park and learn how to follow someone else's rules.  She gets to play with others her age, she learns about how to communicate with these other small children who are incommunicable... She understands that in her daycare provider's home, there are no favorites. It's all the things I can't give her at home, even if I wanted to.  I am over-joyed that there is yet another person in this world that loves Sayler and wants the best for her."

Rebecca is our daycare provider.  I feel so happy that there is yet another person in this world that loves Sayler and gets to watch her grow.  Oftentimes when I pick up Say, Rebecca and I will talk about the funny things she's done that day.  We will chat about the foods she's tried that day (she's a mushroom afficionado), about her interactions with the other toddlers and kids (she doesn't like kids touching her backpack) and about habits that neither of us can seem to break (Sayler refuses to wear shoes...or socks... for any length of time).

So, for me, for now, being a working mom isn't difficult. 

And then there is the question that Lloyd never gets asked, which irks me, so I'll answer it anyway.

"What's it like being a working dad?"

While I can't put words into my husband's mouth, I hope I can convey what I see every day.

It's the look he has on his face when he comes home from work.

He is clearly tired.

But when the door opens and Sayler and I hear the alarm beep to indicate he has entered from a long day at the office her eyes light up.

Sayler doesn't know that daddy hasn't had a nap (or 2) like she has.  And I guess that's because despite how tired he is he pretends he has had a nap (or 2), and his eyes light up to match hers. 

Before he's managed to get out of his stiff work shirt and trousers he lifts her up for a long hug and kiss.

They will play, or I will ask him if he can take a shift in bathing her because I have to head to boot camp, or to another room to finish a chapter from a favorite book... and he will wearily oblige his daughter and I and be the ever-present and dutiful daddy that he is.

On the weekends Lloyd and his daughter will watch the football for several hours while I get laundry done and bills paid or enjoy sleeping in.

And what I love most about their special moments and unique bond is that they run.

A few nights a week I grudgingly grab my free weights, my yoga mat and my bad attitude and head to my bootcamp class at the park. On those days Lloyd packs up his baby girl, the running jogger and his good attitude and they head off to the trails near the park.

They run.

I like to watch them head off into the distance.

He plays music from his phone while her soft, crazy, curly hair blows in the wind as he races quickly down the path.  She leans forward, bracing herself against the wind that blows gently over her face.  More often than not she is smiling.  It's that sleepy, sneaky smile to indicate she is completely content to be there with her daddy.  Other times she seems to be reflectingq quietly as the sun settles in over the horizon.

He will pause on occasion to plank or push-up or stretch and she will wait, patiently, for her daddy to return to the helm to push her around the trails further. 

If you asked my husband what it was like to be a working father- to come home after work and be present and loving and to make quality time with his daughter- he might not have quite as many words to explain it, but I am sure he would reflect on all the things he and Say share, including their mutual love for waking up early to shout at the T.V. on the weekend, the way their eyes mutually light up when he comes home from work, and their runs on the trails.