He’s Not the Step-Dad. He’s The Dad.

Some men marry into fatherhood. Chris just showed up and got to work.

Before we even said “I do,” the minister at the Unitarian church assumed he was the biological parent and I was going to be the stepmom. I corrected him, of course, but part of me thought, “Huh… maybe the universe sees something I haven’t fully grasped yet.”

Turns out, it did.

Chris is not my son’s stepdad. He’s his dad. He always has been.

When Sergio was in middle school and riding the emotional rollercoaster known as scene kid adolescence, he came home one day after being told by his school dean to wipe off his black eyeliner and not wear it again. I gave the classic mom shrug: “Well, maybe don’t wear eyeliner to school then.” But Chris? Chris called the school and asked the dean if the girls had to take theirs off too. Spoiler: they did not. And neither did Sergio, ever again.

That’s the kind of father he is. Protective. Thoughtful. Quietly rebellious in all the right ways.

Honestly, I think Chris “gets” Sergio more than I do sometimes. He sees things in him I’ve missed. Supports him in ways that make me stop and think, “I need to step up my game.”

I could write a whole book about what a great dad Chris is. And maybe I will. (Move over, Normal Motherhood, or whatever I end up calling my second book,here comes Radical Fatherhood: A Beard, a Boy, and a Bag of Eyeliner.)

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