Father's Day

I have a history of being a little let down by "milestones." When Grandma, Papa, Sarah, and I crossed into Canada (my first time in a different country!), I was struck by the sameness. Maybe if our family trip had been to, say, the Gulf of Oman I might feel differently, but I remember being a little disappointed that Alberta looked just like Montana. I also remember distinctly my tenth birthday (a decade!), my thirteenth birthday (I'm a teenager!), and my eighteenth birthday (I'm legal!) more for how I felt the same than any feeling of a milestone reached or passed.

The only time I had really felt the milestone-ness was on our wedding day. That felt like a real, significant event -- a line of demarcation at which I knew that everything after would be different. So as Father's Day approached, I may have been guilty of a little skepticism. But there was something really magical about the day. Tobin and I didn't really even do anything. I spent most of the morning and afternoon with him on my chest while I watched World Cup matches and the US Open. His naps were punctuated by diaper changes and feedings, which means that it was really just any other day for him. But for me, there was a different feeling to the entire day. And maybe most remarkably for me given my history of over-anticipating "milestones," it was a really special day. I felt a heightened sense of the blessing that Tobin has been in his month here with us, and humbled at the role I've been given on this side of Father's Day.

Tobin on Father's Day, the day he turned one month old.