My two dads: Happy Father's Day!

No, I wasn't brought up by two ultra-hip, gay dads (wouldn't that have been a coup in my conservative little town in NE Ohio!). But there are two amazing dads in my life—my father, Tim, and my husband, David.

Let's start with the one who brought me into this world, my daddy, Timothy Dean Compan Sr.

It is not at all hard to tell that Dad and I are related. From the outside, I am a copy of him, dolled up in dresses and heels (that is when I venture away from jammie pants and t-shirts). I have his face—complete with my trademark dimples that I also share with my big brother, Tim, and my son, Noah; the prominent and beak-pointed Compan nose, which I try to laugh off as character; deep brown eyes that I always thought were boring as a kid and now adore in Noah; brown hair that glimmers hints of red in the warmer months; and our jutting chin. I don't know where the chin came from, but we share it.

Two other outside traits cement the deal: my oddly shaped, square (and dinky!) feet and my J-Lo+ heiny. I am Dad, hear me roar.

When it comes to personality, I waffle back and forth as to whether we're exactly the same or complete opposites. If I truly mulled it over, I think I would decide we have the same personality but different beliefs. For whatever reason, I was born leaning a little to the left. By fourth grade I was voting for Dukakis in our school election... I was obviously dedicated to the cause. And despite the famous story that it was my Grandma Dilley's threat to remove the roof over my father's head if he didn't vote Republican decades ago (she was a voting booth attendant, he was living in her house for the summer), I think Dad has always been considerably more conservative than me.

These opposing viewpoints made for an explosive few years when I was getting my footing as a human being circa ages 13–18 or so. But we managed to come out of that era with a relationship that is very special to me.

When I think of my Dad now, I know first and foremost that he is always there for me and my family. He and mom have helped us out of a bind several times in our young marriage, and I am extraordinarily grateful. I know, too, that because of his good example, David and I should live comfortably someday from starting our savings while we're young.

I also find myself mirroring some of his household quirks and parenting techniques. Each day, I find myself wandering from room to room shutting off lights and (yes, Dad, I promise) even closing cabinet doors. Where Noah is concerned, I feel a strong pull to protect him and set firm boundaries—both things I know Dad instilled in me along with Mom's help.

I said this to my mom after she stayed with me in the days following Noah's birth—"I guess I'm never too old to need my Mom." I think the same is true of my Dad. I'll find myself calling him for advice from time to time: "How do I fix the lawn mower? Got any ideas for how to get rid of the moles in our yard? What do you know about fuel-oil furnaces?" Though these handyman-esque inquiries could be passed off as cheap professional advice for broke homeowners, they are really fine examples of a daughter turning to her Dad for answers... something I have done all my life. For some reason, Dads seem to specialize in "Why?" and "How do you...?" My Dad is no exception, so I just keep asking.

On what I think is my Dad's 38th Father's Day (if I'm doing my math right), I hope he knows he is loved and very much appreciated. Happy Dad's Day...from your little girl (or to be more accurate, your youngest little girl).

And now David... the other amazing Dad in my life—the father of my son.



I always knew David would be a great Dad. Even my relatives, who were maybe not so sure about his tattoos, bald head and nicotine habit, could see that David loved kids. Before we had Noah, he spent quality time on trips to see my family wrestling and chasing my six nephews. I think one of their favorite games was "Uncle David's gonna get us!" Shriek. Laugh. Giggle.

Once Noah came along, David laid out his parenting chops for all to see, and it's quite a sight! My husband changes diapers—yes, even stinky ones—and he gives baths. He reads books to Noah, complete with silly sounds (although I still make better sheep, doggie and flying saucer noises, but who's counting). He gets down on Noah's level and tumbles with him and later swoops him up for a ride on his (what must seem) towering shoulders. He patiently feeds him dinner as food flies and hands flail, and later wipes off his hands and face before setting him free to romp around.

And at the end of the night, David even takes his turn reading bedtime stories and quietly rocking Noah to sleep. And every night, it is Daddy's job to sneak back in the nursery after Noah is asleep and tuck the covers around his curled body, even though we both know that they'll be off again in just a few minutes. Before he leaves the room, he always whispers an "I love you" to our little man to send him off to dreamland.

In short, David does every bit of parenting that I do, and it makes me love him all that much more. Noah too.

Daddy is Noah's world (no chance of a mama's boy here!), and I just smile from ear to ear and from heart to soul thinking about it.

Happy Father's Day to you, David!