My Father as Pizza

One of my new years resolutions was to write this blog. Now tonight at 10:15 pm and my kids JUST getting to sleep I'm not really looking forward to it like I usually do. I have a lot to blog about too. I saw my Dad today for the first time in about four years. He met my son for the first time. I broke a sweat sledding with my daughter. I balanced two cups of coffee, on a pizza box, three blocks to my Mom's house, with two kids on the icy snow! I found myself walking on the snow-covered lawns instead of the sidewalk just to feel it under my feet and hear the noise it made against my shoes. I had a lovely kid-free meal with my Mom at an elegant restaurant.

Today was a good day and I just feel like relishing it.

But then all these thoughts are going to be in my head and it's best for me just to get them out. Let's talk about my Dad.

My parents divorced when I was 20 and it was not amicable. I think a lot of us have had this experience with our parents or at least know someone who has. It was no war of the roses but it wasn't fun for anyone. Divorce never is. He and I have had a relationship of some sort ever since but have never had a great one. I have really tried to maintain the relationship but at some point I just got tired of trying and that is partly why we have not seen each other. Don't get me wrong, if he calls we talk. If he'd come to see me I'd welcome him. These things just don't happen and we usually just text on holidays. It seems easier for both of us.
He hasn't been living here in my hometown for the last couple of years so when I heard he was back I let him know I was planning a visit. After being a mother for a few years I have realized that my children need the opportunity to have a positive relationship with my father regardless of my relationship with him.

We met at the children's museum, which I figured was a neutral location with less chance for awkward silence. It turned out to be a good choice. L was so excited to meet her Grandpa and if she was that meant H was too. After about a half hour I noticed L grab my dad's hand, a hand I hadn't held in a long time, and drag him off to an activity. His smile was so big and he gladly went along with her. I left them alone to get to know one another.

Then we went to lunch. We sat in a big booth at the pizza joint next door, me on one side of the booth with room for 3 more and my Dad sitting between L and H on the other side because they both wanted to sit next to him. L and H then discussed what they were going to call my Dad because no grandparent in their family is just called Grandpa or Grandma. The ideas earlier in the day were Pops or Poppop but lunch brought on the ideas of Noodles or Poodles and I think now they are now calling him Pizza. I don't think he really cares what they call him as long as they call him something.
We also got to tell him that we are homeschoolers. I was a bit nervous about this because he was a teacher, a principal and a superintendent. He looked over at me, smiled and said, "I think that is the best thing you could be doing." My happiness in hearing him say this caught me off guard. I guess in the end we all really do want our parents approval.
After lunch we walked my Dad to his truck. The truck really impressed H. We know this by the "whoa" he uttered at the realization that this truck was my Dad's. We stood at the curve and waved goodbye until he was down the street. The kids were happy. They love him already. They know none of the history and have none of the baggage and I'm glad for that. They just know his smile, his laugh and how he teases them. They just know they really like Pizza. I think they are helping me like Pizza again, too.