Dad Love (Part II)

D&SMy friend Susie and I used to scope out “hot dads.”  We would point them out to each other with a frantic whisper - hot dad two o’clock - take a nonchalant look and nod approvingly - Aaaah, yeeees - with fiendish Cheshire cat grins on our mugs, our braces catching the sun.  We were like twelve!  Little Lolitas!  How did we even know to recognize a hot dad?  Must have been some nascent maternal stirrings in our skinny tween bodies, some evolutionary trait honed through the ages to help females pick a good mate.  In actuality we were quite the innocent Catholic school girls, but I’d say we were definitely on to something with the hot dad thing . . .  

So let’s hear it for HOT DADS!!!!  Wooohoooooo!!!!  You guys just don’t get enough props!!!  Here it is baby!  Here’s my shout out to all the hot dads who are out doing their thing . . .  jinging the jingy with the wife, biking with the kids, doing the dishes,  brandishing the barbeque tongs, coaching soccer, trimming the hedges, looking, frankly, hot while you’re doing it!  

Happy Hot Father’s Day!  That’s right men.  Just know that just because your mamas aren’t hunting you down and ripping your clothes off every damn second, it’s not because you’re not hot.  No sirree, it’s because you’re too hot and we are too tired (for the time being).  Not too tired, however, to feel highly appreciative of the serious eye-candy you all are providing for us all over this good green city.

And, of course, Happy Hot Father’s Day to Doctor Dash – the hottest hottie Daddy-o I know!  Now he’s going to be all embarrassed.  Am I crossing the line?  I think not.  I am the picture of discretion.  I am nothing, if not discrete.  So no, it’s fine . . .  love, love, love the hot dads.  Who doesn’t? 

And I super duper dig mine in particular.  It’s funny, although I thought I loved and adored Doctor Dash before having kids, he irretrievably stole my heart and buried it somewhere very very deep the day Saint James was born.  I felt like a wave crashed into me when I saw him holding our beautiful squalling boy, just beaming with joy.  He looked how I felt and sharing that intense happiness, all wrapped up in a light blue blanket was heady indeed.  Saint James was us, yet totally separate and unique and outside of us.  We were a triangle now, and boy, now we were really IN.  

And with each new kid, Dash has shown new colors.  Supergirl brought out a different kind of tenderness – a magical sweetness reserved specifically for fathers and daughters.  Supergirl’s eyes were so enormous as a newborn that she looked like an alien, or a nocturnal animal.  She was adorable and freaky-looking at the same time and Doctor Dash fell for her, hard.

Devil Baby, with all the scares she gave us, worried him sleepless (although he kept it to himself).  His relief that she and I were going to be alright seemed to galvanized itself into a zen-like patience.  He was my safety net and my punching bag during those bleary months when I couldn’t seem to make her happy.  He didn’t say much. The torrent of words, the frantic venting, that was all coming from me.  He let me speak and cry and simply held her.  He gave me the physical separation I needed for a few moments to actually SEE her.  And those minutes of watching him get to know her while I sat a few feet away were priceless – little nuggets of sanity I gobbled up greedily.  In a way, I fell in love with Devil Baby, through Doctor Dash’s eyes.  He was my guide because she and I were so inextricably wrapped up in the crying and nursing and rocking and soothing, none of which was working, that I felt like she and I were one sad, exhausted creature.  He needed to be there, to create physical and emotional space between us, to quietly push us into a triangle, so I could see what he saw, so I could fall in love like he was.   

If Saint James grows up to be like Doctor Dash, I will be a proud and contented mommy, indeed.  I will sigh and hug myself and feel goosebumpily satisfied to have put a good man out into the world.  Dash is a good man. And what can be hotter than that?

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