I love my dad with all my heart, I always appreciated him and when he had a heart attack, a little piece of me died. He is a man of few words, but he wouldn’t let anyone of us get hurt. He was always there supporting our family – even at his own parents funerals he didn’t cry, he made sure me and my mom are fine.
He also welcomed Sing to our family before we even became one. We just started to date and Sing was visiting us through Christmas. I didn’t want to suggest for Sing to join as it was really fresh and put pressure on my parents, but he said Sing shouldn’t be alone for this day. I guess that’s how their relationship hit off.
I was my daddy’s little girl, but then he found his little boy. So did Sing find a father figure – don’t get me wrong, my father in law is OK, he always took care of the family when it comes to providing, but I wouldn’t call him a family men. On the other hand, my dad calls him ‘synuś‘ which means ‘baby son’ and recently even taught him how to float. Yes, my husband had no idea how you don’t swim and don’t drown at the same time.
In general, their relationship is very good and I know they are really close. Not just tolerating each other because of me, but they genuinely like each other. Sing would say things like ‘I cannot wait until we go to Poland and hang out with parents‘. And by ‘hang out with parents’ he means whoop my dad in FIFA.
You probably know by now, that Sing is the nice, patient guy and I’m the one wearing pants most of the time. Unfortunately to him, I have my dad’s character – I can be the sweetest person ever, but I can also get Gold Medal in The Complaining Olympics.
My mom jokes that both of them are Scorpios, but their personalities and levels of patience couldn’t be more different. It’s me and my dad being personality twins. I guess it’s because we both were born in the year of Sheep, or simply because we spent most of our lives together and somehow instead of getting my mom’s sweet and patience personality I became a grumpy old man.
That gets even worse when we travel. When we travel alone we have some plan, focus mostly on ‘the must see’ places and eating our way through the place we visit, while my dad needs to have exact plan, including places to eat. I’m not sure why exactly, I guess that’s because he needs to find a place to tag for his Facebook post (he even knows how to make a live on FB – I sometimes think he wants to become a retired-army influencer).
And when it comes to eating he becomes Dadzilla. Because you cannot have only one ‘-zilla’ in the family, your life would be too easy.
We drove 200 km from Barcelona to one of the beaches in France. We wanted my parents to visit a different place, enjoy the beach and the food… That was my deadly mistake.
My dad doesn’t like this type of food, he can’t eat this because his sugar level may raise (but then he would eat a pack of cookies or a cake), this place is too hot and he sweats, the other one is too cold. This is a fast food which he doesn’t want, but fast food twice more expensive with sea view is fine. And then he blames it on my mom. At this point no one has appetite, but Sing and my dad are hungry, grumpy and hangry.
And you know what? When I was about to burst and tell him I won’t go travelling again with them for next two years, Sing would grab my hand and remind me that my dad is sick, we need to be more considered and even though it’s not what we planned and wanted, we have to just live with it.
He now has ICD in his heart, and even if he complains, at least he is still with us.
So we just told ourselves this is just like having a baby. I had a baby girl for three months and now I have to take care of a little boy for a week. We went to FC Barcelona’s game to make my parents happy, Sing even wore their scarf because my mom got him one. We toured the city and went to see beautiful beaches.
I know not everything went as planned, I didn’t do everything I wanted, but trips like that made me love Sing even more. He kinda knows my pain with Momzilla (although it’s different as she was against me, not just complaining around like my dad), he is patient to me, to my parents. He will think about them before himself. He knows when I see them happy, I am happy. And that makes him happy.
I learnt to appreciate both of my men more. I love both of them so much and I cannot imagine my life without them. And as cheesy as it sound love indeed is patient (Who has ever been to a wedding and haven’t heard 1 Corinthians 13:4-13 ESV – Love is patient and kind?). Not only for international and interracial marriages when you’re more likely to compromise more often than in same-culture marriage, but also for your closest family. There’s no time to waste on anger or being mad at each other. We have limited time with our loved ones and more patience can help us to use maximum of the time left.
I’m glad my husband taught me that.
Are you a patient person? Who in your relationship stays calm while the other is a ticking time bomb? I would love to read more about you!