Father’s Day is upon us, and I think it prudent to call it Father’s Week, or Dad’s Month. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Let us paternal types milk it for all its worth. It can be a tough job.
In my 21 years as a father, I have learned a lot yet do not profess to be an expert by any stretch of the imagination. However, there are some truisms that may provide benefit to others, be they dads, step-dads, granddads, mentors, big brother figures, or any male with responsibilities for helping kids grow into decent human beings. Here, then, are the indisputable truths about fatherhood.
Kids can be a little self-absorbed and a bit scattered.
If they are hungry, they are hungry NOW. If they need something signed for school, it is due right NOW. If there is an event at school to which parents are invited and expected to be there, it starts in 10 minutes from the time you first learn about it from another parent, who now thinks your parenting skills are suspect because you don’t pay attention to what is happening in your child’s life. The invitation has rested in a backpack for weeks with the “seasoned” basketball socks.
Children don’t appear to be listening, yet they hear most everything we say. At least the good stuff or the pearl of wisdom that might take some time to show off its luster. “That’s deep, Dad” is as good as winning the Powerball.
If your clothes were drying, they will likely be mildewing on top of the dryer in favor of one special T-shirt that has to be ready for school. No matter that there are 117 T-shirts that have strong resemblances to each other. This is the one that has to dry above all other clothes.
It is stupid to watch a basketball game, or worse yet, “The Masters” on television when you could be watching back-to-back-to-back-to-back episodes of Grey’s Anatomy or Bridezilla.
The toast you put into the toaster was put there just in case a child happens by and is hungry, not because you personally wanted to eat it.
Taking out the trash is a job, all 30 seconds of the activity. An allowance seems appropriate as compensation for the Herculean effort.
Nothing you can say will ever be as important as the text message that pops up on the child’s iPhone as you are talking, or the other three messages that come in before you finish your thought. It is not considered rude to “take the call.” It is “multi-tasking.”
There is never enough money, and the DATM (Dad’s ATM) is always open.
But then, out of the darkness, a light. The first Father’s Day card that they picked out themselves and hand wrote a message that makes you cry because it is so sweet. They actually like you.
There is the first hook shot that goes in over a much taller player, and the quick glance into the stands to make sure you saw it. You taught the move to someone you didn’t think was listening.
One is proud to have raised a young person who, in a time of crisis such as running through a plate glass window, can keep his composure long enough to snap a picture of his bloodied self and post it on Facebook before heading to the ER for 79 stitches.
The acceptance to a wonderful nursing school, an unexpected gift of Chariots of Fire, your favorite movie, which she found in one of those ads while you tried to read the sports page.
Self-absorbed? Sometimes. Scattered? On occasion. Precious and rewarding? Without question.
It is good to be a dad. No, it is a great thing. Best job in the world.
