HAPPY FATHER'S DAY?

So that greeting card-inspired holiday known as Father’s Day is almost upon us. The holiday where school kids of my generation made their fathers ceramic ashtrays or gave them paisley neckties. Today kids get their fathers PSP and Xbox games (“Just in case dad wants to play with me”) or a DVD of some movie from their youth like “Highlander” or “Caddyshack” that can be found in the $5 bin at Best Buy. While I could watch both of those movies a thousand times it just plain hurts that they’re now considered “classics,” not because they’re timeless, which they are to me, but because they’re old.

Anyway, I was watching an episode of ABC’s “The Middle” the other day, the show where Patricia Heaton plays a Middle American mother, who’s a bit too old to be playing a Middle American mother, and the episode was about Mother’s Day and how Mother’s Day always sucks for her because even though her kids are “attempting” to be nice, she’s still forced to pick up after them and do all the same things she normally does on any other given day. But with the expectations of it being “Mother’s Day” it sucked all the more. But of course by the end of the episode, after her really crappy day, she realized that her family means more to her than a made up holiday.

Being a stay-at-home dad, I pretty much feel the same way about weekends at my house. I watch the kids all week long. I get up at the ass-crack of dawn with the girls, fix them breakfast, make Arden her lunch and then take Arden to school. Then I hang out with Alex for the rest of the day unless it’s a nanny-day and then I get a four-hour reprieve to run errands and do a little writing. And then when everyone’s asleep I do a lot more writing. So when the weekend rolls around I have this unreal expectation that it will be like before Jen and I had kids. Just lounging around the living room all day watching VH1 and maybe doing a little writing before Jen gets up at noon. But now that we have kids the weekends consist of me waking up at the ass-crack of dawn, fixing the girls breakfast and “attempting” to keep them quiet until Jen wakes up. And then I pretty much end up watching them the rest of the day while Jen does all the chores around the house that I’ve neglected due to my laziness and inability to multitask. But the highlight of my weekend is going out to lunch as a family and having someone else actually serve me.

Father’s Day will probably be pretty much the same thing. Though it usually includes a gift certificate to one of my favorite stores and Jen will attempt to let me sleep late, but my body is now programmed to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn (I think that’s actually what my clock says) so it’s a sweet, yet futile gesture. She’ll usually let me write as much as I want, but after an hour or so I’ll feel guilty leaving her with the kids and head upstairs. Then we’ll all go out to lunch at one of our usual spots and there you have it, Father’s Day. So this made me think of what my fantasy Father’ Day would entail…

I wake up early.  The kids are still asleep. I fix myself a bowl of cereal, take it down to my office and surf the net for a good hour. Jen gets up with the girls, cooks me a surprise second breakfast of whole wheat pancakes and egg beaters (yes, my fantasy still includes the healthy alternatives since they’re so ingrained in my head) and then she’ll hand me a brand new iPad with a ribbon around it. Then I spend the rest of the morning playing with my new toy and before I know it it’s time for lunch and we head out to an all-you-can-stand buffet. I eat myself sick, but because this is a fantasy, I don’t get sick, I leave pleasantly full. We get home and the nanny is waiting at the door. Why? Because we’ve got tickets to game 7 of the Lakers/Celtics game and the limo will be there in twenty minutes. I kiss the kids goodbye and we head off to the game where we eat a bunch of hotdogs and hot wings and chug a few beers, all with no heartburn after effects. About half way through the event I realize that the guy in the luxury box with us who looks like Harrison Ford is actually Harrison Ford and we end up talking, hitting it off and he offers to fly us home in his private jet. Now that would be a great Father’s Day.

A close second would probably be Jen offering to let me sleep late, seeing what kind of gift Arden made me in school and heading out to a lunch with the family at the Olive Garden.


Originally posted on Parents Ask on June 16, 2010