It was Father's Day on Sunday

For years, I've been sneaky. Every year on Father's Day, I'd make a decent, but not grand, breakfast for the husOtter. I'd take him out to lunch. I'd give him one thing or another that he had remarked. I'd not wrap it; I'd not actually admit taht it was for Father's Day.

Then?

We moved to Florida.

I'm not sure what came over me. I finally added a card and some wrapping and the light bulb clicked. It was a good feeling before. It was like I always recognized him for who is and why, again, he's so important to me, my family, and this corner of the universe we call home.  I give him small gifts all the time; I give him kudos whenever the time allows. He never questioned it at any point.

And it took him until he got cards that he, truly, was a father-figure.

I don't mean that in any prurient manner, either. I know there's a huge "daddy" fetish that floats around; I know there's a huge crossover into the Bear sub culture. It meant that I valued his role in the family unit.

See, cause, I'd do the same on Mother's Day. It only became a big deal when I moved and gave a card for him on Father's Day. I noticed, for some reason, that when we got our puppy, and tacked it onto seeing him interact with others, kids, our cat, our other corg, that, yes, he was befitting a Father stereotype. No humor, no irony. Just something I noticed.

It was a wonderful Father's Day.

Something interesting, however, did happen this year that made me stand up and take notice of the holiday that I never had before. Now, understand, I buried the church-right-idiots long ago when they sang their, "you didn't have any strong father-figures" in your life eons ago. My Big Brother mentor was a cop and showed me how to shoot a gun. My stepdad taught me all the stuff about cars I like to think I needed to know. My older brother was enough of a fucknut that I learned wrestling at age 3 and how to be an assholic bully by age 10. Manly men shit came at me in a rapid pace-and I figured it out in a early point in my life. No. I"m gay because I was born that way. In my heart. In my head. Nothing to do with the men in my life. Or everything to do with the men in my life. Or something.

Being gay, I had also resigned that I wouldn't be a parent without a heavy dose of assistance.

Like a uterus.

Either a rental or a full out purchase of one.

And uteruses are parently expensive. I had accepted this as a possiblity and I was okay with it. I had to make my peace with it. For I came from an ethnic family and there was the ongoing stressors of family making that come with that. Kids means the family goes on. So even brief humor at the family Christmaskkah shindig carries a hidden weight that would always have to deal with. I made my peace with that too.

Then shit happens.

Florida hates gays. Most of the state is founded in the Deep South, who, about a week ago, figured out that the Civil War was a racist endeavor about a week ago and seems to be surprised.  So hating gays is about as simple as being a Southerner. So, moving here I knew, even if wanted kids, I couldn't. I was cool with that.

Since I had made my peace.

But they fucking removed the law.

So much for keeping an external locus of control.

It's easy to blame the government when they have a schmuck-ton of laws, but when it comes clear that all avenues are open and there really isn't any excuses.

And the floodgates opened. I started thinking again. I felt this inkling. This feeling deep down.

I went ahead and dragged out the checklist. I had found a job that I enjoyed that involved working with children.  I had only worked with middle school and high school before and that was painful enough to keep me away from the pines of parenthood. Now? the joys were in front of me. Secondly, time had passed me. I have more gray than black/brown hair. My husOtter's turning 50. Wait. I live in Florida. They keep having kids down here. 90 year olds. Thanks fertility. Luckily, my job keeps me in touch with many how are miserable. They'll have a kid with all A's in their classrooms and they'll wonder why they're not A+'s.

That part stuck in my head.

Hardly enough to not become a parent.

THat's when I realized, deep down, parenthood is inherent. It's like being gay, it happens deep in the noggin', an inkling, that is part of being. It's vital; it's hardwired into our existence.  We are born to make kids and keep the DNA a-flowing.

I doubt I'll ever have kids; I've raised enough in this lifetime. But I wanted to take this post to realize that, in the end, I guess I did really want to be a dad.  And I think I'd be a pretty good one, too.

Happy Father's Day. To me, my family, my husOtter and to anyone else, man or woman, capable of standing up for it.

Peace.