Different Kinds Of Love But Love Nonetheless

As everyone who has been following my work knows, I have two kids – my daughter, Cree, who’s eight and my son, Logan, who’s three.

Being blessed with two beautiful girls and a busy little boy brings many new complications to my charmed life. Cree, Logan and Chase also have me thinking and feeling things I never imagined. One of the many complications I hadn’t counted on was the different types and degrees of love I have for my son in comparison to my girls.

OK, take a deep breath! You read the last paragraph correctly …. I did say a DIFFERENT kind of love for my son in comparison to my daughters. I’m sure my attitude about my kids and the love I have for them comes as a shock to some folks out here but I am trying to keep this real. My love for them is as different as night is to day!

Now let me try to explain the two totally different types of daddy love I have for my two kids.

Cree is my princess, but to be honest she’s 12 going on 18 one day and an 18 month old baby later that same afternoon. My littlest brat is following her oldest sister in driving me crazy with her girlish drama. My Princesses are beautiful and strong, sensitive and bold. Cree possesses a unique combination of mischievousness and genuine innocence. Chase wants to be her ’mini me’ emulating almost to a tee everything she says and does. With this in mind, obviously my first thoughts for them are to protect and provide. The birth of my daughters and the changes they have invoked in and on my life was an epiphany for me.

From the moment Cree and Chase were born I have tried my best to shelter and love them. Can you say TRIPLE EDGE PROTECTION?! I have spent the first thirteen years of their life having my heart turn flips at the sound of them crying. I have felt outright sick when either girl is upset or disappointed by my actions, every day life situations, dramas or the actions of other family members and friends. I am forever ready to come to their rescue or defense at a moment’s notice, unrealistically trying to protect them from life’s bumps and bruises.

I firmly proclaim to anyone who will listen that my little girls will always have their room in my house - no matter how old they get! To make the contradictions between my actions and my desires a total contradiction I want each of my little ladies to grow up and be very independent women. I want Cree Chase to be women who needs a man for nothing. Women who can buy her own bling, bling! Women who can buy their own cars, houses, and any shiny trinkets either may want. I want Chase and Cree to be able to change a tire and put out their own garbage. In essence I want Cree and Chase to be totally independent but to always know in the back of their mind that Daddy’s is just a phone call away.

Now the way I am raising Logan is as different as night and day from the way I’m raising my girls. Logan has got to leave the house as soon as he gets his high school degree. Eighteen and gone is the theme for my little warrior. Brother’s got to get out of my house, ’cause I’m turning his room into a gym. LOL!! And I expect and demand him to face every obstacle thrown at him head on, back to the wall, face to the wind, knuckles bared and teeth gritted!

I’ve got Logan on the fast track to be out-of-the house, independent and he can’t come back home. I have always heard the old cliché that women raise their daughters and love their sons. I am raising my son first, and the love is a gimme. He will know how to cook, clean, wash and fold clothes and walk-the-walk and talk-the-talk. He’ll be a lot like me. I cook, I clean, and I can even sew if I have to. My son is responsible now, for cleaning his own room and I have him doing as many things as his 7-year-old hands can handle. He helps with the garbage, dishwasher, sweeping and vacuuming. He’ll run outside to work with me without being asked.

I do not see this in women who are raising boys by themselves. I see a bunch of women - NOT ALL WOMEN - pampering and spoiling these young boys, creating the monster they themselves hate. Boys who grow up expecting women to provide for them, to pick up behind them, to make excuses for them when things don’t work out, to bring home their paycheck and go out to purchase them a pair of Nike’s. Logan will have to walk over my cold grave before I allow that drama to take place.

I have been on my own since I was fifteen but that isn’t what I want for my kids. I was forced to start out too early. I want my son to know that he has a home and that he has eighteen years to grow and mature. But I also want him to embrace the concept of leaving home, growing up, and handling his own business. I will let him know he will make mistakes but no mistake is so bad that he will need to come home. Struggling will build character - fighting his own battles will make him strong. I will provide him with the foundation necessary over the next ten years to make it easier for him to never come knocking at my door or anyone’s else.

He will know how to manage his money, bank account and beacon score. When it comes time to buy bling, bling he won’t have to wait till his next paycheck to make it work, unless he’s playing the cash only or not at all game. He will not need a woman to take care of him, clean his house, or help him pay his bills.

I love my son, and I want him to grow up to be a strong black man. I want Logan to be a man who will be role model for independence and self-reliance. I have said on more than one occasion that I am reliving my childhood through him. I know there will be folks saying that you can’t live your life through your kids but I disagree. I am raising my son the way I wanted my father to raise me, and in essence living my life through my son.

I’m raising my daughters to be the women that I think all women should be. Women that can and should stand on their own and can but will always have the protection afforded them by the man who bought them into this world. I’m raising my son to be a true warrior who stands on his own, who will never need to be cajoled into picking up behind himself, never banished from his home because he won’t go to work and earn a living, never frown at the thought of washing dishes, cleaning the house or folding clothes, especially his own. He will also never need to move back into his parents’ home because life has gotten the best of him.

I did say night and day didn’t I?