For Mother’s Day, I wanted the day off. I wanted my husband to do all the crap I normally do so I wouldn’t have to do any of it. Basically, I wanted to not be a mom for a day, which is ironic considering the holiday is called “Mother’s Day.” But he did it. He did everything I not-so-subtly hinted at for two weeks beforehand and then some. Honestly, he overachieved the shit out of Mother’s Day and now I’m a little freaked out that I won’t be able to make his Father’s Day just as awesome.
There’s nothing I can do to give him a “day off” from being a father, because… well, I kinda already do 90% of the parenting around here anyway. That’s just a cold hard fact. He parents, but we’re talking piggy-back rides and getting the kids a cup of juice at dinnertime because I growled at him over the meat I was cutting into tiny bite-sized portions to go ahead and feel free to help out a little, wouldja? He’s totally confused about all that day-to-day maintenance stuff and has basically submitted to doing whatever I tell him to. It works for us.
As for all the other stuff he does, like going to work all day to shake the shit out of big, expensive stuff that may or may not go into outer space (he’s a vibrations engineer; make whatever assumptions you must about his expertise with regards to his skill at “vibrating” stuff), maintaining our cars, fixing crap that broke around the house, seeding, weeding, and mowing the lawn, doing all the techie jobs around the house, or grilling the best damn steak you’ve ever tasted… well, I have no idea how to do any of that.
I have no idea how to turn on the grill, and, quite frankly, I’m scared of it. Isn’t that tank underneath combustible? If anyone could find a way to blow up a neighborhood trying to grill a steak, it would be me. I can’t give my husband a break on the techie stuff because in my mind, the solution to internet connectivity problems is crying. And the cars… well let’s just say the car I drove in college died because I forgot to change the oil. For three years. But I still want to do something nice for him.
Obviously I can’t go to his work and take over his job for the day; that’s not even up for debate. Even if I were allowed, I probably wouldn’t be able to figure out how to open the door to the building he works in; it’s super-fancy because engineers like to make everything difficult. And forget about mowing the lawn, because I can’t even get the lawn mower started much less push it over our fluffy floritam sod. I promise, I have tried.
All of this pathetic inability on my part to handle anything that is stereotypically a man’s job tells us two important things:
1) I am clearly not as big of a feminist as I thought I was, and
2) I would be lost without my husband.
I know I’m talking a lot about what a good husband he is when I’m supposed to be talking about what a great father his is, because Father’s Day, but this is how my husband does being a good father: he’s a good husband, he works hard, he fixes things that are broken, and he gets shit done that needs to get done. I really don’t know what else I could ask for from this guy. The kids are lucky to have a dad who does so much.
Now that I’ve used up my sappy quota for the day, we must return to our original problem: I still don’t know what the heck I’m going to do to make his Father’s Day super-awesomely spectacular like my Mother’s Day was. Is it totally lame to fall back on the old stand-bys of BJs and beer? Hang on, lemme go ask my husband.
He says he’s fine with that.
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