Dear Diary or whole Internet…whatever,
I have a confession to make. I might have been a wee bit selfish and assholey about Father’s Day. It may not have occurred to me to put any effort into it until the actual day. And then I blew it. Big time.
First, Mother’s Day was a freakin national holiday for me and I took it VERY seriously. No one was taking this day away from me. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted and I did not wipe one butthole that was not solely behind me for one whole day. It was a big deal. I prepped Mark for weeks that I was taking this day. No presents. No cards. No breakfast in bed (besides the bed was already full of crumbs from my nacho binge the night before anyways). No need. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. So he did, they did. Like a boss. He took the day and enjoyed the kids without me. It was awesome.
So – he set the bar pretty high right? I should have followed suit and let him have a day all to himself, bought him a cool gift, or at the very least become an animal in the sack right? Nope. Not at all. First, I was tired. We’d been in the sun all day. I just wanted to sleep for cryin out loud, and since 50 Shades and my new smut addiction have come about, he hasn’t had much to complain about. (Gross, I know, I’ll stop. I can hear my sister ewwing from 2 miles away.)
AND, I also may have gone a bit over budget this month, so spending any money, even on him, would have just made him mad, so the present was a nonstarter.
My big hang-up, and the thing that made me kind of an asshole, was my whole attitude about the whole thing. I might have had the teeny tiny thought that he didn’t deserve a day off. I do the work Monday through Friday. I wipe the butts (can you tell I’m getting a wee bit tired of doing this?), I use all my vacation on mystery fevers, I worry what the mystery fevers are, I pack lunches, I fix dinner (kind of, they get fed anyways, PB&J counts people), I chauffeur to med checks, doctors, soccer, karate, daycare and so on. I work full time, do the pick ups, rush home to fix dinner (kind of, see above), unpack, OK, I’m getting tired of typing this, let’s just say I do a lot. By myself.
So, I kind of got my panties in a bunch and ignored any sort of planning or putting any thought into the day. I may not have given him the day because this was his first time home in two weeks and I NEEDED him to be with the kids.
Problem is, he didn’t deserve my attitude. His job isn’t his choice, a sucky local job market makes it so he has to travel to find work. It’s a good job, good pay with a good company and an awesome opportunity for him that at the same time allows our family to stay put near our support systems and surroundings with which we are familiar. He gets to come home every weekend mostly and when he does, he hits the ground running.
He gets home, maintains the outside (with the exception of my May only gardening helpfulness), does trash duty, pool duty, fixes all that’s been broken (because I’m just a girl, math is hard!), helps out his family, and cooks all the weekend meals. This is all in addition to organizing fun nights like outdoor movie night, trips to the Zoo, swim parties and cookouts. All with two kids hanging off him. Then he catches a 7 a.m. flight back to his hotel “home.”
So, it’s not like he’s livin the dream either. And he hates it. I mean, the job is great, but it’s the crazy number of miles away with no end in sight that bites. Plus, he’s a way better dad than I’ll ever be a mom, even just two days a week. Sure, he might miss a few details and match G in horrendous clothes, but really, there’s not much to complain about regarding his parenting skills. He has more energy, more creativity, and basically the mentality of a 12 year old. No wonder kids love him. He’s wicked fun, indefatigable (word of the day toilet paper), and the most creative dad on the planet. Oh yeah, and none of it’s forced. Even before we had kids, I could find him playing with his nieces and nephews when the rest of the adults were being all grown uppity together.
So, this is my public apology. I am sorry honey for being such an asshat. You know I’m not perfect and you love me anyways. You’ve put up with me for close to 18 years and this is no where near my first fuck up. I’ll make it up to you. Maybe with some steak, Killian’s and a rowdy romp in the hay once the kids go to bed. What can I say, he’s easy to please. No ties for this guy…well maybe we’ll throw some ties in there, you know, just for fun. 🙂
Confessions of an Introvert 