for the mothers who are fathers, too

The following was originally published last year but my love for the motherswhoarealsofathers is forever. I see you, solos. And you deserve every fucking flower for all that you carry. LYLAS.

This is a love letter for all the mothers who are also the fathers because I know so many of you and hear from so many of you and watch in awe as so many of you carry your entire families on your backs while people say things like I don’t know how you do it as if you have a choice.

Because I see how you navigate a life without breaks or vacations while receiving PR pitches in your inboxes for the men in your life who do not exist. Give him the gift of golf on his big day. He deserves it.

No. You do.

I know so many women going through divorces right now. Separations. I know so many women who parent 100% of the time. 90% of the time. “50% of the time” but only in quotes. I know women who have had to learn how to father their children, who have showed up for friends who are mothering alone. Taught their friends’ sons to shuck oysters and change tires and skateboard and unclog the drain. Because woman can be father figures, too.

And while there are plenty of wonderful fathers out there — most notably my own (I love you, dad) today I write for the mothers I know who are fathers, too. Specifically the ones in my life who have taught me how to show up as both parents and who have become my community. Mothers who have learned how to be the men in their kids’ lives and have helped me do the same. Women who inherited the role of father with the death, disappearance or abandonment of their children’s dads. Women whose immense capacity deserves to be celebrated today, too.

I will never forget how my friend Christina reached out to me the year after Hal died to wish me a Happy Father’s Day knowing that I had spent the previous nine months learning how to take on two roles.

Pulling apart the gender assumptions I didn’t even realize I had until it was just me. Camp counselor meets personal assistant meets life coach meets financial advisor meets travel agent meets therapist meets chauffeur meets peacemaker meets disciplinarian meets “go ask your mother oh wait that’s also me.”

And how it felt like this:

Stay soft but not too soft.

Be strong but not too strong.

Keep everyone safe but not too safe.

Be a good provider but also never miss a thing.

Be everywhere at once.

Be everyone at once.

Become the man of the house so your son doesn’t think he has to be.

Be at every game (front row) and every performance (front row) and never be late for pick up or drop off and never sleep through your alarm. Set two if you need to. Set three.

Work seventeen different jobs to make one income work while trying to explain to your kids why you can’t afford to travel like their friends do every summer.

Stay present in a way that your children do not feel less loved with one parent than they did with two.

Offer to wear a suit and a fake mustache to the father daughter dance.

Sign your name on both lines because sometimes the forms ask for two parents.

Teach your son how to tie a tie even though you’ve never tied one before and then teach him how to shave his face. Apologize for doing it wrong. Explain that you’ve never done it before, pull up a youtube tutorial.

Get out of bed when there’s a loud noise. Say, it’s okay I will protect you and mean it.

Model independence but also model acceptance of care. Of how to ask for help when you need it because everyone needs help sometimes even you.

Ignore the shade and statistics society throws in your face claiming your children will not flourish because you will never be enough.

Know that you will ALWAYS be enough. That they could parent alone too if they need to someday but also you hope that they won’t have to.

Know that you are enough even though you are exhausted. Even though you were supposed to get away this weekend for one night and then realized it was father’s day and how could you leave your kids on father’s day you can’t. So you stayed.

Be abundant and boundaried. Loud when necessary, quiet as not to wake anyone up.

When something breaks, know how to fix it with a wrench. And also how to sew a button with a needle.

How to break down a door if you need to and then what to do with its repair.

Model care and strength.

And strength as care

And care as strength.

Then look at what you’ve done for all these years on your own.