Two and a half years — your age when we met.
Your mom (my high school obsession) called me on Superbowl Sunday 1989.
We set a date to meet, but as would happen repeatedly the following 20 years, drama intervened and we convened days earlier in front of a liquor store on La Paz road in Mission Viejo. She’d driven up from San Diego after attacking your grandmother with a shoe, more on that later, but this isn’t about her.
After a few months, we moved in together in Huntington Beach, and your mom and I married a couple years later.
I think it’s wonderful that you remember your sperm donor so fondly.
Those times when he:
brushed the knots out of your hair (because you’re mom didn’t have the patience)
held you during the night terrors until you were 4
changed your wetted underwear and bed sheets
gave you a home, food to eat and a bed to sleep in
taught you that there’s nothing you can’t overcome, especially homework that time when you were giving up because you didn’t get it, and then you did
video taped every one of your school shows
took you to the emergency room at all hours, regardless
bought the albuterol, amoxicillan, claritol and all the other meds prescribed to keep you breathing
encouraged you to follow your dream
objectively gave you kudos where deserved, and offered constructive criticism where needed (learned that from my mom)
warned you about Sean, let you make the mistake, on your own, anyway, but always watching (yes, there’s things you don’t know)
put you on my car insurance, bought you a car, bought you a phone, paid for your phone and usage, even when you upgraded and didn’t even tell me (I did give you shit about that).
paid for two semesters at the University of Hawaii
Took you back and forth to work, at whatever job, whenever
Showed up at your door with the uhaul at 5am, that I’d already loaded (clearing out your storage unit), for the garage sale we had planned, and which you did alright on. Including the meatball sandwich from Lucci’s.
There are things she’s said that may not be totally accurate. I’ve never bagged on your mom, and I won’t. That’s not how I was raised. She brought me all of you, for which I am forever grateful. Period.