Being a father is exhausting. If you’re doing it right.

And believe me, he is.

He wouldn’t be so tired if he didn’t get up with me in the night and burp her, change her, comfort her, soothe her back to sleep. I just feed her. He does the rest.  He wouldn’t be so tired if he didn’t do that.

He wouldn’t be so tired if he didn’t get up every morning at 5:30 (after having just been up at 4:00 for a feeding) and head out to a workout bootcamp that’s incredibly intense. He said he’s doing it not to lose weight, but so that he can be healthy for his girls. He wouldn’t be so tired if he didn’t do that.

He wouldn’t be so tired if he didn’t go to work for eight hours a day and work hard so that I can stay home with Eisley instead of putting her in day care. He wouldn’t be so tired if he didn’t do that.

And this is the result of his patience, his selflessness, his unconditional and relentless love:

A very, very happy daughter. With awesome pants.

Happy First Father’s Day, Christopher. Your girls love you so very very much.

*And a very very important p.s. Happy Father’s Day to my sweet, wonderful, kind, hilarious, patient, talented pop. I love YOU so much. I wouldn’t have demanded such a high quality of a husband if I didn’t see demonstrated every day the kind of man that makes a good husband. Thanks for singing with me, dancing with me (2,3,4), letting me draw a family on your toes, being my Brentar, Master of the Universe. Happy Father’s Day!