I play and/or speak 100 times a year nowadays. That’s a lot of goodbyes. And every one of them is the same. A hug. A kiss. A brief explanation of where I’m going and how long I’ll be there.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
And I’m out the door. And my kids are on the couch eating breakfast – seemingly unaffected.
Becky left this morning to visit her sister in New York City and her goodbye last night was a little different. There was some whining, some sniffling, a little worry on three small faces as if to say: Don’t leave us alone with this man, Mommy. What will we eat? What will we wear? What will we do without you? He can’t match clothes and forgets to eat sometimes – are you aware of this?
I recognize the fear. I remember my mom leaving me alone with my dad one weekend when I was smallish. I remember eating shiny plasticky dry pancakes and drinking the wrong kind of milk. I remember a bedtime that felt earlier than usual, bath water that didn’t run deep enough, a wake up that involved a bugle call and no back rubbing.
[Note to self: Leave saxophone in the attic for the next few days and do not attempt pancakes.]
But I can do things Mom can’t or won’t do. I’ll show them.
I can wrestle. I can put a tent in the living room. I can smack talk during board games and wrestling and, for no good reason, while putting up a tent in the living room. I can fry pork chops and thinly sliced potatoes and onions. I can tolerate the mall. The. Mall.
I can play in the creek at the park and throw large stones into the middle of it and convincingly pretend they’re cannon balls fired by pirates. I can fill a head with pony tails in about a minute.
I can burp. Very loudly. And fart. Also very loudly.
I lack the compassion for caged animals that keeps my wife out of pet stores and zoos. I can touch bugs and feed them to our Venus Flytrap.
I can play any song on the piano that little people want to dance to – including, but not limited to Hey Ya!, Canon in D and Viva La Vida. I can eat Chick-fil-A for every meal and I’m willing to go down the slide on their playground.
I can and will do these things for the next couple days. And the kids will cry when mom comes home. Not that I want anyone to cry or that I need the validation; I’m just saying it’s a possibility. That’s all. A very strong possibility.
Brad says:
enjoy your blogs, bro. you’re cracking me up.
Donna N says:
and those “dad times” are the best times. my dad was a big man and he would lay on the couch and offer to pay us money to the first one of the three of us who could pull him off and onto the floor! then we’d play hide and seek and when he found us, he would laugh a deep scary laugh and we would scream bloody murder! good times!
Heidi says:
I hated the days that my mom had to go to work really early, because my dad would have to get us ready for school, which meant the dreaded “daddy-dos”. Those. Were. Bad. Hair. Days.
Deidre says:
If you brave the mall and eat at Chik-fil-A you should be golden. At least my little girls would think so.
My girls LOVE times alone with Daddy, but I gotta warn ya – there is lots of celebrating when I walk through the door (rare, but true). I wouldn’t expect tears
Ron Woods says:
I kept my kids all by myself once when they were young. With therapy they all recovered. We were able to rebuild the house. My twitch eventually went away.
It was fun.
Dawn~Canada says:
Interesting to note, when moms away the kids will play…including the biggest one. When I leave, there are tears too, but I have no idea why!!! When I’m gone our house ERUPTS into all kids of, well, fun? (chaos in my opinion). I think you dads have a deal with the kids, some thing like: “Hey guys, you cry like crazy when mom’s about to go, then we’ll pull out the sugar, bodily function sounds and every toy in the place. I’ll peel you off the ceiling way past bed time. And of course those purple pants match that orange and green sweater sweetie. Ready….and now.” You would think they’d cheer as I walked out the door and cry when I get back. My theory is that they crave order and organization. They need rules and regulations. They need an enforcer. They need (please use your best super hero voice) The MOM!
Tracee says:
I remember getting a huge coke float in a Jethro bowl once when I was sick and my dad came home to stay with me while my mom went out. I remember thinking he didn’t know what he was doing, all the while enjoying the Jethro-sized coke float. Daddies have their own special charm. So nice to read about!
Grovesfan says:
Dad times were great times indeed! I don’t remember my mom ever leaving us when we were kids, but I sure do remember some great ball games and camping trips with dad just the same.
He had a hard and fast rule too: Mom cared for us all day. He cared for us all night. His time with us was bath and bedtime. Those late-night feeds, the “one more glass of water,” etc. He loved those times with us and us with him.
He’s been gone for 18 years now and I still miss him dearly. He was one of the best!
kathryn says:
impressive Dadding skills! I loved reading this. It made me smile.
Kev says:
[Note to self: Leave saxophone in the attic for the next few days and do not attempt pancakes.]
Does the saxophone ever come out of the attic these days? I remember when I saw you in Dallas–what was that, five years ago now?–that you said it had been a while, but you wanted to play again.
Signed, your old saxophone instructor from TJC
P.S. Happy New Year!
owlhaven says:
Hope you’re hangin in there! If you ever feel sorry for yourself, just remember my hubby was home with TEN kids while we were off partaying for a week in the Dominican Republic in November.
OK, so maybe we weren’t partying.
But there was cliff-jumping.
Mary
annie says:
Have fun with the kiddos! Sounds like you have a great plan.
Dave Haupert says:
Great post- glad to see that my family is not the only one with this ‘imbalance’!
BTW, if you do make pancakes, here’s how to make them awesome- chocolate chips and powdered sugar. I have become the pancake champion of the house single-handedly with this upgrade!
meaghan says:
that’s pretty big talk there…i’ll be interested in the real story
jk, nothing better than time alone with daddy!
Christine says:
You guys will have a great time! And Becky will be mighty trepidatious before she agrees to leaving on her own again. I know I was! The first question my girlies ask every stinkin’ morning is “where’s Daddy?” He’s at work. Where he always is when you have to ask that question. Do they ever ask “where’s Mommy?” when I’m the one not around? Nooooo! But I do get awesome, knock-me-on-my-rear-end hugs when I return! It’s so worth it!
mmo says:
Yup, that’s why a kid will always need his dad growing up…minus the bedtimes earlier than usual
Kevin Cook says:
Classic. “Hey, sweetie… would you turn down your POG CD, stop texting, hold off on your five-course dinner, three loads of laundry, your Spanish lesson with Eden and come over here for a second; I wanna show you a blog.”