I did it for Mother’s Day, and I’ll do it for Father’s Day. I’m an equal opportunity blog over here. I know it can be hard occasionally for Fathers, too. Like right now when my husband is sweating it out over having to give “The Talk” to the boy child.
Hey, I did my part. I talked to The Kid at the end of her fourth grade year as ordered by the school. Ok, so maybe the school didn’t order so much as send home a notice stating in very cryptic terms they would be covering puberty in health class per the state’s curriculum requirements, and instructed us to let our kids know we are “askable” parents and that The Talk is part of our commitment to family values. First, I’d like to say, what if we are not “askable” parents? And, secondly, what if my family values are more along the lines of shut up and don’t bother me, kid?
I don’t think it’s right for the school to inflict their learning on us. What if we’d like to remain ignorant? I’d prefer my kids to learn all that stuff on the street corner by the older kids who know the latest vernacular like nature intended.
Nevertheless, I sat The Kid down.
In a very relaxed, honest, it’s-all-good kind of way, I discussed the changes about to transpire even though she was in no way interested in having such a discussion. She sat stone-faced across from me, her shifty eyes looking for an escape route, as I yammered on trying in my most casual, it happens to the best of us, non-intimidating manner to prepare and educate her. We talked for maybe 20 minutes, and the whole time she did her best to block her ears from intercepting the information, preferring instead to stay in a child-like state for perpetuity. I’m fairly certain she mentally inserted her index fingers into each ear while chanting, “la la la la la, I can’t hear you” as I spoke.
Now it’s my husband’s turn. He dreads giving The Talk as much as The Kid dreaded receiving it, but it is mandated by the terms and conditions of parenting. Crazy shall have his.
Of course there are many other battles fathers must wage in long, hard fight to raise children. Here, now, are but a few.
It’s hard to imagine a more challenging struggle.
Then there’s all the things selfless parents, and for the purposes of this post by parents I mean fathers, do to enrich and enhance their children’s lives. To be clear they don’t want to do them, they rejoice in not having to do them, but they do do them.
If I had a dime for every time I’ve prayed for rain, I wouldn’t be writing this blog post right now. I’m happy my kid are exposed to new interests and developing their respective adolescent skill sets, but nothing makes me happier than having a practice or a game cancelled. You mean I don’t have to start dinner at 4:30 p.m.? Or race over to drop The Kid off at 5:30 and then go back to pick her up an hour and a half later while trying to cram in some homework in between? Or worse, have to sit there the whole time when I have a sink full of dishes waiting for me, plenty of 4th grade homework to complete and posts that don’t schedule themselves? Still, we and by we I mean parents and by parents I mean fathers do it.
And what’s the reward? Typically, something like this:
It’s heartening to know after all we do for our children they don’t give a wit whether we live or die. It really affirms all the hard work we do as parents. I don’t care that the kid has a point. Does he have to be so God damn heartless about it? But you know kids, as long as their chicken nuggets are lukewarm and their juice cold, they don’t give a rat’s ass who’s catering to them.
On that note, I hope your kids make it a happy Father’s Day for you. Or at least are happy you’re still alive.
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