Mr. Mom

Angela Guiao
MSMU Class of 2021

(3/2021) One of the most prominent memories I have from my childhood is walking out of my elementary school after a taxing day in kindergarten. The kindergarten classroom had a door that led out to the front garden of the school, and the parents usually gathered around there near the end of the day to pick up their kids. I don’t remember what was going on that specific day, but it was particularly busy. And I distinctly remember, while scanning the crowd for my mom, watching my best friend, Alice, run towards her dad. He picked her up and placed her on his shoulders, and together they laughed as they made their way to the car.

This was the first time I truly realized that I didn’t have a dad.

As I grew older, I would be periodically reminded of the fact that I didn’t have a dad in my life. Yearly, I’d remember every Father’s Day when my teachers had us make cards for our dads, and I realized I had no one to give mine to. I’d be reminded each summer when my mom would refuse to travel anywhere further than an hour away (unless we were with a group of people) due to the fact that she was frightened of what might happen to two women if the car broke down.

When I was younger, I remember often wondering how different my life would be if I had a dad. Perhaps, if my mom had someone to help her with the bills, I would have my own room. Or maybe if I had a dad, my mom wouldn’t have to work so much, so she wouldn’t be so tired or short tempered all the time. I always wondered how much I was missing, and I had always assumed my life would be better if only I had a dad.

And perhaps that is true. But, as I look back now, I realize that I have a pretty good life.

I didn’t have a dad, but I always felt loved. My mom loved me so much, her love probably equaled that of ten people. We didn’t have much money, but she always bought me the things that I wanted. I never realized we were poor. She never had much time, and she was chronically tired, but she made every single piano recital, graduation, and school play.

I didn’t have a dad, but I have a mom.

My mom taught me how to ride a bike. And she spent weekends with me at the park when I wanted to learn how to play tennis and softball. She enrolled me in dance classes and soccer lessons, ballet and piano, and she always wanted to take me to them herself. And like clockwork, she’d always be waiting when I was finished.

My mom taught me multiplication and division. She would come home at 11pm, and we’d go through flashcards until I fell asleep. Then she would tuck me in and get ready for bed. Then in the morning, I’d wake up to breakfast already made and my lunch ready for me to take to school. Sometimes, I’d wonder if she even went to sleep.

It was my mom that took me to Freshman orientation. It was also her who dropped me off my first day here at the Mount. And it was my mom who I called every day because now I was at school, and she was all alone.

My mom sacrificed everything for me. She spent day-in and day-out at work. She spent all of her money on me. She has been planning out how to make sure I get into college since the minute I learned how to read.

But she was also there when I had my first crush. And when I had my first boyfriend. I always heard that dads were supposed to be overprotective. That no boy was ever good enough for their daughter. If that is how dads are, then my mom embodied the spirit of three dads during my adolescent years.

Every year, I was my mom’s Valentine’s date. She would buy me chocolates and stuffed bears, and we’d go out to eat at a fancy restaurant while dressed in our Sunday best. She’d surprise me with little notes around the house. And she’d take me to the movies twice a month for "date night". She used to tell me, "One day, you will be doing this with your husband instead of me. Make sure he treats you this well." She taught me the importance of being able to depend on yourself. She showed me how to love unconditionally and reminded me never to accept less than I deserve.

Now, in no way am I saying that we don’t need dads. I don’t know what it means to have a dad. I don’t know how different my life would be. I don’t know how having a dad would have shaped my life. Maybe it would be different if I was a boy. Or maybe I wouldn’t feel this way if my mom wasn’t this strong. All I do know is that I was a happy kid. And I attribute that to the love of my parent.

I do know that I have a good life, and that is because of my mom. I can’t say that my life would be any better or any worse if I had a dad, but I can say that I was loved just as much as any child with two parents.

My mom is a strong woman, so I became a strong woman. And though I don’t know much about dads, I’d imagine all dads would want their daughters to grow up as strong women. So, in that sense, she succeeded. Because, in the end, all any parent wants, moms or dads, is for their children to grow up happy and loved. And that is exactly what I did.

My mom is the best dad in the world.

Read other articles by Angela Tongohan