Happy Mather's Dad!
I’m back! And it’s taken 3 days to get this posted because of our beautiful, new, 5-week old baby bear! He’s the sweetest, most adorable and most loved baby bear there ever was.
For our first story comeback, I’ll skip the birth stories and family reunion details. I’d rather invite you into our living room to share a Sunday story, a too-late cup of coffee, and a piece of rainbow swirl cake. Family stuff.
A wonky winter season has started in Cape Town. One day it’s freezing, and one day you’re wearing shorts. (Sound familiar, Texans?) Two-thirds of the city has a runny nose. We had planned on going all out with flowers, chocolates and all the things that make moms feel special this Mother’s Day for Love Jesus Church’s discipleship group, but everybody was sick! Narissa and her son, Jarryd (Lifa’s best friend), were the only healthy ones who could join!
Narissa is an extra special kind of mom, and her birthday was coming. Lifa had already made her a beautiful rainbow swirl cake (under my direction from a breastfeeding chair), so we invited Narissa and Jarryd to come to our house for family dinner on Sunday evening rather than the Love Jesus House for discipleship group. When they arrived, Narissa and I plopped down into comfy seats while Chris tucked the boys into Lifa’s room and charged them each with writing a Mother’s Day blessing to present after dinner. Thirty minutes later, we pried them out of Lifa’s room for some taco soup, cornbread, and iced tea.
I had baby Benjamin wrapped snuggly around me, and, while we ate and laughed at his baby sounds, we swapped stories about what Lifa and Jarryd were like as babies. I only met Lifa at 2-years old, but I could see him relishing in stories about his earliest remembered days. He longs to be tucked into stories that validate his belonging into a family, having witnesses to his life, and being as snug and secure as his little brother was in that moment as I wrapped him up tight. Even now, at 34-years old with my own boys creating stories, my sister and I swap stories from our childhood through ridiculous, cackling voice messages. And it feels good.
Our stories anchor us. They shape our values, and help us find where we fit.
We need to hear them, know them and practice them.
We need the opportunity to write redemption into them where we need it, and sprinkle celebration through our self-images. Our stories matter - whether they feel happy or sad.
We moved to the couch so I could feed Benjamin and the boys could do their presentations. But first... the cake! We sang the birthday song, Narissa blew out her candles, and we made a huge deal out of the cake Lifa made himself - with homemade chocolate whipped cream frosting, nonetheless. Lifa felt like a hero. He really is a super celebrator.
Finally, the Mother’s Day blessings. They had worked so hard, and both boys used their best public speaking voices to look their mamas in the eye and speak life and love over us. It was so special, and they were overjoyed to have the opportunity to do what God made them to do - honour and love their parents. When the cake was finished and the last bit of icing licked off the plate, Chris took a closer look at the beautiful blessing Lifa created. (I was still feeding Benjamin so hadn’t had a chance to really look at it yet.)
That’s when it began…
Chris realised the beautiful artwork actually said, “Happy Mathers Day”. And even better than that, it had originally said, “Happy Mather’s Dad” until Jarryd pointed out his error, and Lifa did some fast colouring to turn “dad” into “day”.
Chris lost it. He laughed harder than I have ever seen him laugh. He kept having to take his glasses off to wipe tears off his face. Maybe it’s newborn sleep deprivation… but it was just one of those nights where the slightest, silliest thing sent him irrecoverably over the edge. And that was enough for us all to give in. I convulsed with laughter. I couldn’t see through my tears or catch my breath. It was contagious… we all fell apart laughing… for the rest of the night, far past bedtime.
Lifa and Jarryd recounted the story of Lifa’a silly mistakes (trying too hard to spy on adult conversations) and how Jarryd had pointed them out… “I was judging Jarryd’s artwork and then he asked me why I wrote Happy Mother’s Dad…” And we lost it again. The night was a blur of laughter, story swapping, and shouting “Happy Mather’s Dad!” over and over again.
Lifa relished in that too. He knew he wasn’t being laughed at, and he was laughing hard then anyone (except his dad). We did manage to speak through our tears to tell him how special his blessing was and how proud we were of him. And that we’d celebrate Mather’s Dad for the rest of our lives. He beamed, still laughing. He said, “Well, I guess that’s just a part of my childhood.”
That’s when it hit me. The part that felt so good about that night was the joy-filled, family-focused, celebration story we added to Lifa’s storybook. It was the fact that something Lifa did will impact the way we speak, the stories we’ll share and the memories that shape our family from now until forever. We were made for that - to have an impact, to be a part of stories, and to be celebrated for just being in the moment.
I didn’t post a charming baby picture or emotional mom thought when the world was celebrating Mother’s Day. We spent the first half of the day doing homework and laundry. But we had the very best Mather’s Dad there ever was - I was surrounded by the greatest guys, and we wrote a family story full of laughter and a memory Lifa will never live down! And he never wants to!