Tuesday, August 3, 2010

All too soon, the clock will strike midnight...

This is a note my husband Colby wrote on his facebook. It was so beautiful that I decided to steal it and post it here! :o)

All too soon, the clock will strike midnight...

I have three children. I love all of my children with everything I have. It is hard to explain to anyone who only has one child how this can be. When you only have one child you love them with your whole heart. In fact they so fill your heart, that you can't imagine having anymore love to give. But when you have another child, your love is not split, it is doubled. It's as if you suddenly have another heart to give. And I think anyone who has multiple children would testify to this.

Having established that fact, I would like to take a minute to talk about just one of my children: My middle daughter Lexi. I have been accused (by certain parties who shall remain unnamed) of playing favorites with her and being softer on her than I am the others. While the jury is still out on this matter, I will say that none of them can melt my heart the way she can. One of our favorite things to do is dance to Steven Curtis Chapman's "Cinderella". She puts on her Cinderella dress-up outfit, I pick her up, and we do our best waltz to these words "So I'll dance with Cinderella, while she is here in my arms. Because I know something the prince never knew. Yes I'll dance with Cinderella. I don't want to miss even one song. Because all to soon the clock will strike midnight...and she'll be gone." There are many things in my life I would like to forget. But there are some things I hope never to forget. These moments when she is "daddy's little girl" are some of the moments I cling to, desperate to remember them through senility and old age.

We spent yesterday evening at Wonderland Park. Since Konner had his favorite cousin there, and Jamie had her sister to ride the rides with her that I could not handle, me and Lexi spent a great deal of time just the two of us (a privilege I happily accepted). We rode the ferris wheel with Jamie's Dad and Grandmother, and I let her bury her face in my shirt when she decided it was scary. She rode the cars, well, only the pink one. She rode the ponies and I stood by her, then switched her to another pony when she decided she needed "to hold on to that thingy (the reigns)", and then rode on a pony with roses in it's hair when she decided I needed to ride next to her. One of the last things she wanted to do was ride the Frog Hopper again. We made it in line as they were about to close it down, and they agreed to allow one more ride. As the ride began to rise, and then bounce downward repeatedly, Lexi started giggling. As she did I was reminded of a speech from (of all things) the sitcom "Friends", as a man who's girlfriend broke up with him tries to re-win her affections with these words: "If I had known the last time I saw you would be the last time, I would have stopped to memorize your face, the way you move. If I had known the last time I kissed you would be the last time, I never would have stopped." So there I stood, drinking in every individual laugh. Memorizing them. Saving them away for the day when that sound no longer fills my house, and purposing to treasure every time that I am fortunate enough to hear her call me "Daddy"

You see, I decided a long time ago that I will be the dad who is at every recital, every softball game, and every rock concert (even if it is only in our garage). I will kiss every owie, I will drink every cup of tea, I will dry every tear, I will return every hug, and I will try with every breath to be worthy of the gift God has given me. The gift called fatherhood. I will love them, I will protect them, and I will be there. I will teach them the great lessons of life someday. But for now, as the little moments of life go flying by, I will put my burdens aside to enjoy a simple living room waltz. And I will not miss even one song.