The Sunnyvale Sun
Letters & Opinions
When 'family' is just baby and you, and mom is also dad
By Carol Bogart
A nice little surprise came in the mail a few days ago--a partial refund of the deposit I'd paid on the townhouse I was renting in Castro Valley.
This was unexpected, largely because my experience has been you don't very often get back the deposit even if, to your eyes, any change from a place's original condition is normal wear and tear.
When you have a cat and dog, and a teenager--well, I figured that money was long gone.
With newfound wealth ($200) in my pocket, I set out to buy gardening supplies and plants. The store also proved to have one of the best greeting card selections I'd seen in quite some time.
I had no trouble at all choosing a really touching/funny/appropriate-to-the-person card for my best friend in Ohio who is turning cartwheels over her first grandchild.
Of course, the card section also had its full complement of Father's Day cards, which tend to make me misty for two reasons. One, of course, is that I no longer have a dad to buy one for. The other, well--here's that story.
I have been a single mom for as long as my son can remember.
When he was tiny, I enrolled him in a Montessori preschool.
One day, when he was about 21/2, I arrived to pick him up from school and he wasn't his usual bubbly self.
Once we were in the car, I gently cupped his chin and turned his downcast face toward me. "Honey," I asked, "what's wrong?"
His small voice quavering, Mike told me that all the other kids were making Father's Day projects. Since he didn't have a dad, he said he didn't know what to do.
The next morning, I took him to school about 10 minutes early. Once he was busily engrossed in the "Continents, continents, do you know your continents" puzzle, I took his teacher aside. "Miss Liz," I said, "Mike's never known his dad. And when the other children are doing their Father's Day present, he feels confused and sad. I was wondering if there might be some way to help him feel less left out."
Miss Liz was a very kind woman who truly adored Mike.
That afternoon when I picked him up, he bounced into the car beaming.
"You look happy," I said. "What's going on?"
"Can't tell," he said slyly. "It's a secret."
The following weekend, as I was making his breakfast Sunday, he was soon standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his hands hidden behind his back. Shyly, but with an expectant smile, my small son handed me an object clumsily wrapped in construction paper and said proudly, "Happy Father's Day, Mommy."
From then on, each year it was sort of our own little tradition, but when he left for college, I wasn't sure whether he'd remember. Last June on the Saturday before Father's Day, I checked the mail. No card. "Well," I thought, "that's OK. He's just distracted with all the new things he has going on right now," and tried not to be disappointed.
The next morning I was just waking up when the phone rang. As I put the receiver to my ear, without preamble, a sleepy 19-year-old voice said, "Happy Father's Day."
I once read something about mothers (and it applies to fathers, too) that touched me. The author, anonymous, wrote it as a letter to mothers from God. When I clipped it, Mike was about 4 and I was a stay-at-home mom.
"You are a mother because that is what I have called you to be. Much of what you do is hidden from the public eye. But I notice.
"Your influence upon him is greater than you think and more powerful than you will ever know. I bless him through your service and honor him through your love. Your child is even more precious to me than he is to you. I have entrusted him to your care to raise him for me. What you invest in him is an offering to me.
"You may never be in the public spotlight, but your obedience shines as a bright light before me.
"Continue on."
Father's Day 2006 is just four short days away. Happy Father's Day to all you dads and grandpas--and to all you single moms.
Carol Bogart is the new editor of the Sunnyvale Sun. Contact her at cbogart@community-newspapers.com or call 408.200.1055.
