#toward fatherhood

[towardfatherhood]

Why I Chose to Stay Faithful

It wasn't hope...

...in case you are wondering. Or sentimentality. I'd fully accepted that our marriage was on its deathbed.

"You can do whatever you want," came the assurances of well-meaning friends. "Your marriage is over; it's just a Piece of Paper down at the courthouse." I had heard this phrase before, but never had reason to give it any consideration until now. Suddenly, it mattered. My own marriage was the subject, and the predicate was personal.

It wasn't helplessness

Once upon a beautiful time on this lovely land, I raised a trio of dairy goats. Their daily contributions of warm, fresh, life-affirming nourishment were a joy to me. One sunny spring, one of the dams, whose unusually thin udder had earned her the moniker Tiny Tina, grew suddenly very thin. Dairy goats are rather squishy mammals, carrying their guts very low, slung from high, angular hip bones; a saggy bag of water swung from a sturdy coat hanger. But Tina's eyelids had grown pale. Her jaw swelled; her coat roughened. By the time I understood what was happening, this peaceful, wonderful animal had a fatal case of barber pole worms. I treated the worms and tried desperately to restore Tina's strength and vitality, but to no avail. Soon she was immobile on the barn floor, alone, shivering and murmuring to herself. Tina was dying.

I knew I could put Tina down quickly with my rusty old farm rifle, but the idea seemed so very brutal, a sudden and heartless end to a faithful partnership. After all she'd given, and now facing this undignified end, Tina deserved to find peace at her own pace.

It was hospice

I chose to care for Tina through her final days. In the brief moments between housekeeping and homeschooling, I visited Tina with blankets and gentle words, doing what I could to keep her clean and comfortable as she faded. It was hospice, as best I could manage. Understanding that she would soon die, I dug a small grave for her behind the barn. The ache in my arms and sweat on my back felt honoring to the work Tina and I had done together.

Tina died quietly two days later. I buried her just as quietly, without fanfare, steeped in solemn gratitude.

Every dying sentience deserves a dignified end. My marriage was such a being, a solemn partnership that fostered new lives and nourished growth. It broadened my horizons and showed me wisdom. As my teacher and friend lay wheezing, mortally ill, I refused to simply shoot it in the forehead, or turn my back and let it die alone, whilst I shopped for a new one. My marriage deserved my fidelity in death, just as it had in life.

It was the birth certificate

This is why I stayed faithful, why I chose care over abandonment: if my grief and feelings of disconnect could reduce my marriage to "just a Piece of Paper," then my marriage, at it's very core, had only ever been a piece of paper. It had only existed as a binding reality as long as I "felt" married. But the vow I had so solemnly taken, before God and my community, was “until death.” That piece of paper was a birth certificate, and I chose to sit alone with my ward, my marriage, my friend, until the bitter end.

It was an honor

I am proud of the care I gave, though it was draining, demanding, crushingly lonely at times. I stood at the edge of death, feeling its nearness, and I wept. I cried more in that year of stillness than in all my previous years of toil and effort. I was able to sit in such fidelity only with the adamant, warm, vociferous support of my family, close friends, church community, therapist and counselors. They comforted me, prayed for me, encouraged me, cried with me, checked on me, sent their notes and thoughts and love and care.

It was not alone

In that sense, I now at last realize, I was never alone in my fidelity. My entire community sat faithfully with my marriage in its final moments. My marriage died, not lonely or alone, but in the company of angels, carried in the stalwart love of a faithful people. As it should have. My marriage deserved that much.

[arabian-batboy]

And if I wrote an essay about how in a weird messed up way, Ra's al Ghul has been sort of a 2nd father-figure to Bruce over the years then what?

[cobbssecondbelt]

The differences between Din and Paz's relation with their foundling are quite interesting to observe.

Paz explicitly refers to Ragnar as his son, and Ragnar calls him ''dad'' without hesitation. We don't know how long they have been together, but they are family, there's no doubt about it for anyone.

Meanwhile, Din has had Grogu under his wing for 3 years, and despite their obvious bond and everybody else saying otherwise, he still refuses to acknowledge himself a parental figure. Even without the threat of having to hand Grogu away, Din can't quite yet let himself embrace the role of a father fully. Probably because he knows the pain of losing parents and knows Grogu will eventually lose him before he's even out of childhood, and therefore can't bring himself to this level of emotional vulnerability (even though his love for his foundling is evident), as other people have already mentioned.

Paz and Ragnar don't have that. Obviously nobody is safe from an early death, especially not Mandalorian warriors, but for them it is a risk, not a certainty. Din knows Grogu will outlive him by centuries. He knows he will only be a blip in his lifetime. And maybe he wants to protect Grogu from the great pain that inevitably comes with great love. Even if it's too late for that.

Din still has a long way to go and a lot of things to learn about loving. And think Paz can teach him plenty, without even realizing it.

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

bad convincing pomme to eat her cookies

[adhdheather]

following a bunch of spn blogs and sometimes seeing arguments get resurfaced, esp involving dean, does always make me remember the time i was like "so we all know dean is a terrible father" when talking abt how he treated jack, and i found out that we do not all know that

[scalproie]

Domesticated Post-Tekken 2 Era Kazuya is my favorite to think about because this would be so good for him and everyone else but he would have an absolutely miserable time during it

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also the Biggest Eternalest Moods

[fellhellion]

I have a rich inner world abt both iterations of Miguel and the relationship to fatherhood <- literally just hc

[emperorcartagia]

oh. that's comfort. comfort of my gore character.

[rinbylin]

他居然是朕的儿子里面最像朕的。// 这个臭小子资质不错，的确有我当年的风范。

[joleneghoul]

I really find the like, 60s lore of rip being a grandpa funny and he has grandpa energy but the problem is he does not have parent energy to get to that point.

[towardfatherhood]

I Feel Happy of Myself

Any time I feel a little proud of myself, I think of the effervescent little kid from that Schmoyoho video; just as pleased as punch about learning to ride his little bike, he gives a big, encouraging speech to everyone out there in TV Land. "I KNOW you can believe in yourself!"

Well, today I’m somewhat sure I can believe in myself, if only for a moment, or an hour. Today was not what I'd call a "good" day, despite what the Psalmist might say; we experienced a number of shrieking tantrums in the Brown House, furious glares, weeping walkaways, and the like (insert corny quip about how the kids had some emotional moments too, waka waka!) In moments, I felt like I was fostering troubled kids from another dimension. I texted family members, "Today I'm not sure I'm doing this right." Distraught face emoji.

Reminding myself that my newly minted "children of divorce" are going through the hardest, most stressful and disorienting year of their little lives, I trudged faithfully through the day, weathering withering words and tiny flailing arms, muttered epithets. I sighed. And I made sourdough pancakes.

Saturday is laundry day at Daddy's house, and all kids are expected to help - a fact which shocks and devastates each child no less for having participated in this cruel ritual every single week for several years. We folded and hung up and put away. We threw socks into baskets and stuffed towels into drawers. We sulked and stewed and complained. And I made crisp gnocchi with seared broccoli and lemon peel, this time with a tablespoon of fake maple syrup at the end, because I've run out of honey.

Finally the kids seemed to have worked out most of the angst they'd stored up for today. They played on screens. They called their friends. They ate sliced apples with a dollop of caramel (a snack which remains evergreen in our home.) And I made turkey burgers for dinner, served on sliced bread of course, as the Lord intended it, with roasted sweet potatoes and a bagged salad fresh from the hallowed shelves of our local grocer, Walton’s Mart.

By special request, I let the kids Watch Bob's Burgers while Eating Burgers. This seemed to delight each one. We headed off to bed at a reasonable time. There may have been teeth brushed, or at least fleetingly kissed by bristles and paste. I played my guitar as the kids settled into sleep. I don't play well, but my quiet strumming reassures them that their daddy is near.

And I made bread. Nothing delights me quite like the rare achievement of sectioning off enough of my day, of having and holding enough brain space to remember the very simple steps of my unabashedly simplified sourdough recipe. Doubly entombed in both Dutch oven and oven oven, the bread's resurrection after 39 minutes roasting in hell can be…at once life-giving and breathtaking. And today it was - all lovely and crusty and steaming and quietly crackling in its cooling glory.

And I feel happy of myself. I have loved my kids today, as best i could, in word and work and food. I'm patting my own back, yes, and why not? No one's going to do it for me.

Thumbs up everybody!

Thumbs up, me.

[cienie-isengardu]

Atin: Laseema mentioned you understand lekku language, is that true?

Vau: Quite enough, yes. Why are you asking? Did something happen?

Atin: Well… Etain and Laseema were talking in the kitchen about Kad. Kal joined and somewhow the talk turned into lecture about good wives and the importance of fatherhood and the all. Etain sounds upset so I though Laseema will be upset too but she is smiling while her lekku swirl in a way I've never seen before and now I'm not sure should I interfere…?

Vau: Oh, that. Well, it depends.

Atin: Depends on what?

Vau: Are you okay with Laeema stabing Kal or not. If you mind, then I advice to take the knives out of her reach while you still have a chance because in a few minutes it maybe too late. if not, stand down and let Laseema have fun.

Atin: …osik.

[EDIT: changed picture from photo to scanned version ]

[anders-hawke]

big giveaway that i’m a screenwriter i feel is that i was like genuinely afraid that quinta was gonna have janine and gregory kiss already and i was like no!!!!! it’s only been 2 seasons!!!!! they’re not ripe yet!!!! but the shipper in me was also like 🥵🥵🥵🫠🫠🫠🫠🥴🥴🥴🥴😘😘😘😘🤪🤪🤪 yk

[kefnut-the-gweilologist]

there has to be a feminist writer out there who has written extensively on this

[nintendont2502]

ready set not yet post canon roxygen. do you hear me. do you fucking hear me. I am grabbing you by the shoulders ready set not yet post canon roxygen do you underst-