Still chilling in our jammies, Marshall, Chip and I were lying, tummies down, on the family room carpet. Armed with red pens and class lists, we surrounded ourselves with dozens of store-bought Batman and Star Wars Valentines. The boys signed their names on the cards meant for classmates and friends, and then they stuffed them in baggies in anticipation of the big party coming up on Friday. My youngest planned to save one of his cards for me. He examined them all, and he carefully chose one that was two inches bigger than all of the others, featuring the forever-wise and wonderful Yoda. I'm sure he didn't choose it for me because he believes I'm as enlightened as Yoda. More likely, it's because I'm tall, so I should have a tall card.
The thought of receiving a Valentine from my small son pulled a vivid memory to the forefront of my mind. A memory of a special surprise dessert I made for my dad when I was a little girl: a chocolate cake shaped like a heart. It was the '80's, so even if heart-shaped cake pans were in existence, my mom had no plan to buy one. We were going to create our own heart cake with what we had at home.
We whipped up a trusty box of devil's food cake-my dad's favorite-and evenly poured the batter into one square cake pan and one round cake pan. Courtesy of Google and Pinterest, people in 2015 know that you can create a heart-shaped cake by cutting a round cake in half and connecting the two halves to the square cake. In the '80's, my mom just knew. I was convinced she was a genius.
To frost the cake, we also made a batch of my mom's famous homemade icing, and I colored it a light shade of pink. She slathered that pink fluffiness all over the chocolaty goodness, and suddenly, we no longer could see any traces of three individual pieces of cake. We had turned those fragmented slices into one giant, seamless, chocolate heart, covered in rich whipped cream icing.
My dad came home from work that Valentine's night to find his big pink heart waiting for him on our kitchen table. He smiled and MMMed through every morsel, as adults often do as they eat something a child has prepared for them. My dad was the best at making me believe whatever I had baked for him was the most incredible piece of anything he had ever eaten in his entire life. I was so proud of that pink heart cake when I was a young girl. My dad made me feel that I had made something exceptional. These days, heart-shaped cake pans are a dime a dozen, and I've had a few of them over the years. Maybe I should hide mine and encourage the kids to use their brains to make their own dad a special cake for Valentine's Day. He would be proud of their geometry skills for sure.
Though this story is about my own father, I know it may resonate with you as well. For those of you who have sentimental dads like I do, I hope that joyful memories will surface as you think about times spent with your own father. For the men who are reading, my hope is that you can contemplate the ladies and little girls in your life. Are you worthy to be their first or forever Valentine?
We hear it all the time: that we may not appreciate what our parents have done for us until we are our parents ourselves. When we're living through the daily grind as kids, how could we possibly know that what our parents are doing for us will have such significance? Now that I'm a mom and sharing parenthood with Mark, I'm able to see 6 reasons my dad was my first Valentine.
1. When I think of what a man and father should be like, I think of my dad. I grew up in a steel mill town, where everyone's dad worked in one factory or another. Shift work. Overtime. Steel-toed boots and hard hats. Work clothes that can't be washed with the regular laundry. Men taking care of business to take care of their families. No complaining. No whining. Just working hard to make it all work. That was and still is my dad.
2. When I was young, cars didn't have remote locks, and stores didn't have automatic doors. I was let into a building or into our car by my dad's two hands. Even though technology has come a long way to put an end to chivalry, my dad continues to insist on practicing one of my favorite gentlemanly gestures, everywhere we go.
3. My dad was the first person to ever give me flowers. We really didn't make that big of a deal about Valentine's Day, but as my dad would present my mom with flowers and a box of Fannie May Mint Meltaways, he would always have a smaller bouquet waiting for me.
4. When we were on the brink of adolescence, my best friend's father very suddenly passed away. It was the most tragic event imaginable. Up until that point, all of our lives had been completely entwined with one another. It was as if we had two homes, two sets of siblings and two sets of parents. When one father was suddenly lost, my own dad naturally and effortlessly embraced the children in that family. One year later, she and I were attending a summer writing program. It was almost Father's Day, so our teacher asked all of us to write about our dads. She asked my best friend if she could think of another man, someone who loved her as her dad had done, for her story. She decided to write about my dad. Why he was special to her. How he cared for her and her little brother, always taking the bunch of us to the park and out for ice cream. Her incredible story was published in the local newspaper. I was only eleven years old, so I didn't really see the significance or magnitude of everything that was happening through those years. Now that I am a mother, I see it all. I see how my dad viewed that loss and the responsibility to his friend's children. She and I are still best friends, with our own families now, and he has never let that compassion or dedication subside.
5. During all of my cello performances, or at any of the kazillion other activities my brothers and I dabbled in through the years, I knew that if I looked out into the audience or up in the stands, my dad would be there. Even bone-weary from working the midnight shift, his presence was a given...a constant. Now that he's Grandpa to nine grandchildren, he unquestionably watches their games and attends their special performances, too.
6. One of the coolest and most selfless acts my dad has done was forgoing a big 60th birthday bash to celebrate at the McDonald's play land with his grandkids. As his family is what matters most to him, and being with those nutty kiddos makes him so stinkin' happy, he chose to spend his birthday at a place where the kids would be comfortable. They wouldn't need to worry about being bored or staying clean or speaking politely to a bunch of strangers. So, we booked his party at McD's, where he was the oldest birthday "child" they had ever hosted. He played the silly games, wore the special hat, posed for crazy pictures, and in the end, it's a party none of us will ever forget.Aren't all parents supposed to be a child's first Valentine? The most trusted source of love they'll ever know? I know I'm honored to be Marshall's. Unfortunately, not everyone is blessed with such strong and caring parents, so I guess all I can really say to my own father is thanks for being "Dad."
Happy Valentine's Day!
Love,
Sissy-Liss
Would you tell me about your own first Valentine? If your own memories are not filled with pink hearts and chocolate, what have you done as a parent to show unconditional love to your babies?
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