Father's Day at the Park

We wanted to do Father's Day low-key.  It doesn't get the hype of Mother's Day, which makes it a little easier to swallow, but I knew it wasn't going to be an especially easy day for David, who was missing both his baby girl and his grandpa this year.

I gave him a card but no gifts.  It was actually a weirdly appropriate father's day card that was mostly about what a great husband he is and how glad I am to be with him on this journey of parenthood.  (Nice one, Target).  He didn't get emotional on me, but I teared up when he read it because I just kept thinking about what kind of silly little craft project involving handprints and finger painting Eliza and I would have put together for him.  It could have been such a different kind of morning, you know?

After breakfast (he made omelets), we decided to go for a walk in the park.  It was humid and hot but not quite stifling yet.

Cooper, Me, and 38 Weeks of the Deuce

We left Little Mac at home, because the last time we took her for a walk in the park, she slipped and fell into the pond, soaking her butt.  I had to drag her out by the leash because she is not a water dog.  Then she smelled like wet dog plus disgusting stagnant water.

As if that weren't bad enough, she had a sort of mental breakdown after the trauma of her unexpected swim and the general exhaustion of walking in the heat, so when we returned to the car, she refused to jump up into the back seat.

HOWEVER, she also refused to allow David or me to lift her up into the car.  This meant that the two of us were hovering over her, afraid to touch her but trying to encourage her to "Load up!" while she threw a barking/growling/snarling/lunging fit.  Her eyes were rolling and I seriously thought she might start foaming at the mouth.

We tried to get a blanket under her legs so we could lift her up in a sling, but she kept attacking the blanket and her leash in her effort to bite us.

TOTALLY MISLEADING PHOTO.
DO NOT BE FOOLED BY THE SMUSHY PRESHUS SWEETNESS.

I love her, but she is such an ungrateful little bitch.  So she created a HUGE and ridiculous scene, and people walking/jogging/bicycling by kept staring at us because her snarling was louder than their iPods.  I was totally mortified, as it sounded like we were cruelly abusing our small dog, when actually we were just trying to GET HER IN THE CAR.

After several minutes of this, I finally hit the end of my patience, dragged her around to the other side of the car, and used the momentum to lift/drag her by her leash/collar/neck into the back floorboard.  When we got home, she was still being totally hateful and she kept trying to bite David (who tried to gently help her out of the car), so he finally hosed her down in the backyard because he couldn't pick her up to put her in the bathtub without her drawing blood, and we HAD to get the pond-stank off of her.

So we had a parenting pow-wow and decided that Little Mac had lost her park privileges for next time.

Wut-ever.  I not sorry.  U guyz suck.

Here.  I givz u stink-eye.  Ur welcome.

So anyway, today it was just Cooper and David and me who headed for the park.  We had a pretty nice walk around our favorite little path, and we were enjoying the slightly overcast sky that kept the sun from frying us.

It was a busy morning at the park--lots of bikers, joggers, roller bladers.  I got a lot of sympathetic smiles from women who passed us on the path as I trotted waddled along.  Then we passed a middle-aged couple who smiled pleasantly at my belly, just before the woman cheerfully shouted to us, "Happy Father's Day NEXT year!"

My throat seized up.  We gave her fake smiles in return, saying nothing.  Then we turned off the path to walk around a small lake and David muttered, "Yeah, thanks for that."

I gave him a squeeze, but what was there to say?  We are so lucky that the Deuce is currently hiccuping away in my belly, but seriously.  Ouch.  As though we needed ONE MORE REMINDER that we weren't pushing a stroller with an 18-month-old baby in it.

So we strolled along off the path near the pond, away from other people.  We paused in the shade of the cedar trees around the pond and watched a bird with a crawdad in its beak.

Isn't that creepy?  We never saw the bird actually eat the crawdad.  It just stood there holding it.

We watched the bird until Cooper got antsy and tugged at his leash.

Then we headed back to the car with only half of our family with us.

* * *

Share is a national organization for bereaved parents.  We have occasionally attended a local group here, and have met some great people and found some relief by attending a few meetings, especially in that first year.  I did not want to belong to a "grief support group" but I'm so glad that this organization exists.  This year, they sent out a you tube video for father's day, about how grief works differently for dads.  You can view it here.

The part that sticks with me is the part about "fixing the problem."  David has talked about how stressful it was for him in the early weeks and months when I was crying frequently constantly and he felt so helpless.  Sometimes he would react in ways that were so confusing and hurtful--he'd practically ignore me when I was sobbing.  He explained later (when we met with our therapist) that he didn't know how to help me and after several weeks, it made him feel so anxious and stressed out that he could hardly stand to be around me when I was that upset.  We had to have a LONG talk about what would help me (like, you know, a hug) and what helps him (he was ready for distractions long before I could even get up off the couch).  Thankfully, we both wanted to take care of each other.  We just weren't always sure how to do it.

It feels like a long time ago that our grief was so sharp and all-consuming.  But I can remember it very vividly.  (Oddly enough, I can't remember father's day last year.  At all.  I tell you, Summer of 2011 just didn't really exist for me.)  I'm so glad we made it this far.

And maybe that lady at the park is right.  Maybe next year will be the first father's day with more happy than sad.