OMG. Ben has been in San Francisco for meetings this week (well, Thursday and Friday, but it sounds more dramatic if I say this week-- it also sounds cuter to say Fran Franfrisco like Harry does), so I have been alone with the demons (and by alone, I mean, I have had Jamie for several hours both days, and Ben came home yesterday afternoon), and that little sojourn of semi-solo parenting gave me a good dose of perspective.
Because seriously? I am lost without this guy
who totally looked just like that when I met him at Bradley University's SFI in 1995.
It's more than having someone to share the poop and the crumbs and the screams and the post-dinner-pre-to-mid-bath meltdowns with-- it's having that perfect someone.
So, IHO Father's Day, here are some old pictures of us before poop, crumbs, screams, and completely heinous nightly tantrums (from kids, anyway):
In college-- who DIDN'T have a nasty black futon, really? (although Ben also had an old wood-framed couch upholstered in brown faux fur under which he stored a giant plastic box of high calorie sweets. Sophomore 25, here I came.
We're at my parent's house watching via web cam our friends (and Ben's roomies) Doug and Misty getting married in Vegas.
Here we are on our last pre-kid trip anywhere, in Boston for NCA. I was 8 weeks pregnant with Harry, and I brought my first ultrasound photo (procured the day before) with because we couldn't stop looking at it.
Happy Father's Day to a terrific dad and my favorite person in the world.
(Some people have a lucky fishing hat; Ben has a lucky labor hat.)