To be blunt, my Father’s Day sucked.
First of all I had to work. That right there takes a lot of the joy out of the day and eliminates a lot of options for celebrating. And I definitely didn’t want any presents. We’re broke and I don’t need anything. MJ got me my phone last month and that’s a big gift for Father’s Day, my birthday and Christmas combined. Besides, it has never been about the price tag on presents for me.
All I wanted was a card, a nice meal and maybe something thoughtful and homemade. But apparently that’s asking too much.
I received no card in the morning. Then I left for work, and got out just in time for gray skies and spitting rain. It also took me an extra 45 minutes to get home because traffic leaving the Cape was so shitty. When I got home from work, I noticed the house was really clean and I thanked MJ for her hard work. Then I proceeded to fold two loads of laundry. She told me she was cooking me dinner. Pasta with meat sauce. It’s one of my favorite meals, but honestly I offered to cook it myself because, well, I like my sauce better than hers. But she said it was Father’s Day and so I stepped aside.
Here is the series of events that followed:
My favorite kind of pasta is rigatoni. We were out of it. So I had a choice between tri-colored corkscrew pasta and spaghetti. I really don’t like spaghetti so I went with the lesser of two evils and told her anything but spaghetti. She inexplicably cooked the spaghetti.
She used sauce that had more of a hot, spicy taste. I abhor spicy food.
While cooking she broke a dish and cut her hand in several places. Which means I finished cooking the last of the meal while simultaneously cleaning up a plethora of broken glass and making sure my wife didn’t bleed to death.
When I do eat pasta I cover it with parmesan cheese. It is one of my favorite things on Earth. We were out of it.
One of my other favorite foods is garlic bread. MJ tried to make some homemade garlic bread but forgot it was in the oven and ended up burning it so badly I couldn’t eat it.
After the meal I got to do the dishes.
And let’s just say there was no dessert, if you catch my drift.
For Mother’s Day I made MJ breakfast in bed and brought her coffee in with a card from me and Will. Then I took Will out of the house and let her relax to do whatever she wanted for 3-4 hours. I also made her dinner later that night. Nothing extraordinary by any means, but I wanted to acknowledge that it was a special day. Because she deserved it.
I know this post won’t be popular. After all we’re dads. Men. And men don’t complain like this about being shafted. We’re supposed to suck it up and move on and stop acting like babies. But fuck that. Is it really to much to ask that we get special treatment for one day?? And yes, I’m aware that there are extenuating circumstances here such as MJ being pregnant, her having to clean the whole house because of the current flea infestation courtesy of our three pets and she certainly didn’t mean to burn the garlic bread or cut herself by dropping a dish. I get it.
But would a a little effort have been too much to ask for? On Father’s Day I ended up with no card, folding laundry, doing the dishes, eating food I don’t like and didn’t ask for, not eating food that I love because it wasn’t in the house and capping it all off sitting by my lonesome on the couch. Seriously, would a card have been too much to ask for? I would’ve settled for a homemade card with Will’s scribbles on it. And why ask me what pasta I want if you’re just going to forget my answer and cook the kind I don’t like? And then when things don’t go as well as planned I figured it’d all be made up after Will went to bed. Instead I sat on the couch alone and watched True Blood. Which, unfortunately, was by far the best part of Father’s Day.
Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Mother’s Day is THE parental holiday of choice. Father’s Day is more of an afterthought. And yesterday, so was I.
I guess all the stereotypes aren’t so off-base after all.