If you’ve been reading my blog for a while (say, since Monday), you’ll know that I’m not a contender for Mother-of-the-Year.
Well, here’s a newsflash. I’m also not a contender for Wife-of-the-Year or Daughter-of-the-Year.
No holiday makes that more obvious than Father’s Day.
Here’s my evidence:
- I don’t send my dad a card or buy him a gift. When I was growing up, we were frequently applying herbicides and pesticides to our crops on Father’s Day, which means my dad and our entire family were dealing with dangerous chemicals. (Yes, I realize that may shed some light on my personality now). Anyway, when you’re on a busy grain farm, Father’s Day is a luxury. Maybe if the wind got up, we’d barbecue steak. But a full day celebration? No way.
- I don’t buy my husband a gift or a card. I do, however, make him dinner and drag the kids to visit him at work. Last year, I was in such a rush to see him that I got a speeding ticket.
- But here’s my best evidence: Father’s Day 2004. When Vivian and William were an alien-looking 3 weeks old. When we lived in Bangkok. When I had a meltdown of nuclear proportions. You can read about it in The Calgary Herald, where it appeared yesterday. Click HERE to read The Infamous Father’s Day Meltdown.
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Any Father’s Day failures in your memory? Successes?
Last year I almost made the Serb cry with my lack of preparedness. This from a man who grew up commie with no father’s day ever. On Sunday we have the 600 person wedding extravaganza from 9am-midnight, but I have been preparing his alternate celebration for tomorrow as a surprise. He totally thinks I’ve forgotten.
But you get to wear your hot-young-thing dress, right? Now that’s a Father’s Day present for the Serb, if you ask me.
As a kid holidays were fun special times to look forward too. As an adult with kids, in laws, nieces, nephews… it seems like we are celebrating something every five minutes and that new holidays are added all the time… like I don’t remember grandparent’s day as a holiday when i was a kid…. but anyway, i love my father very much and I love my husband and think he is a great father and my brothers in law are great too…. but to juggle the BBQs and spending $50 on cards that will get tossed in the trash and gift cards for home depot or iTunes…. well, it’s exhausting and wasteful, i have come to view now…. but i do it anyway because i do not have the balls to say something practical like, i love you all, let’s make a toast…. skip the gifts and cards….
Oh, I so hear you. We don’t exchange many gifts at all with my extended family. I spoke up a few years ago and rocked the boat. I’m the youngest, so I can do that.
I don’t have a comment so much as a question: we are not agreed in our house on what a “spatula” is, exactly. I maintain (as the person who does 99 percent of all cooking) that a “spatula” is a plastic or rubber implement used for getting the last bits of batter or egg out of a bowl while my PPP (pretty, petite partner) extends the definition to all flat kitchen implements, including the wooden thingamagummy I call “the flipper.” If you can bring any clarity to this discussion, it would be great. And if you would side with me, it would be the bestest Father’s Day gift of all!
Well, on the authority known as “The Farm,” we didn’t have spatulas; we had flippers and rubber scrapers. Case solved?
But really, the person who does 99% of the cooking should be able to call in a Flibbersnoozle if he wants.
Have you had the toilet paper roll discussion yet?
I feel bad. My dad’s birthday is June 12th. I forgot to send him a card; and I didn’t call. So I got him a card and a father’s day card and then forgot to put them in the mail. This year I sent my mom flowers for mother’s day. This year I’ll send him his birthday card and his father’s day card late. I’m a sucky daughter.
I swear too. A lot. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of but will own up to and do try to reign in peridocially.
I don’t think you’re sucky. If we’re relying on cards and Hallmark holidays to tell people they’re special, we’ve missed the point, I think. (Yes, I am completely justifying my own inaction. Sigh.).
I think the first thing that drew me in with you was your transparency. Love the way you tell reality. Of course, some folks are just plain scary when they get real, so I’m glad you’re not like that. And yes, the chemicals of your youth do make sense.
Please let me know when I get scary real. Don’t want that. Sigh. It was the insecticides, I just know it.
I loved your story. And I love the idea of “owning” your meltdown. 🙂
Thanks. It got me out of cooking brunch, which is a good thing too.
I dearly love the idea of a spatula chucking contest! Is there a prize for the winner, or do you all go out for ice cream?
Ice Cream? Now that just might be a new addition to this year’s contest. So what that my husband is lactose intolerant… Maybe they’ll have sorbet. 😉
Leanne, I’m glad to finally know the mystery behind the spatula-throwing! 🙂 Thanks for sharing the messy side of life – we all have it, but not all of us are willing to share it so openly. You’re awesome!
Thanks, Kim. I think I’d be hiding under my bed if I didn’t share some of this!
I love that you swore and threw things in your post-natal hormone storm. I just cried. Constantly.
I’m going to make a completely and medically accurate claim by saying that if more new mothers swore and threw things (but not their babies), then the wake of all that excess chemistry in our newly floppy bodies wouldn’t be so bad.
The “not their babies” addition was a good one. And you can write, dear Jess. Even in the comments, you write!
Once you reach a certain age (and families are spread across the country), a get-together isn’t so easy. But… in fact, my dad arranged an out of town get together many years ago – his (then 80-something year old) father, himself (in his 50s), and me (30ish).
We all met up, and spent a wonderful day together. It turned out to be the last time I would see him. A car accident took him not too long afterward – too young, and in perfect health.
This is not to bring “down” the mood, but rather to say that it was a warm and loving and delightful day. Something I will always have and cherish. I would call that quite a success, wouldn’t you?
Quite a success, indeed. What a lovely memory of generations just “being” together. Makes me look forward to the 3 weeks I’m spending with my parents (and kids) this summers.
Thanks for sharing that.
This spatula-throwing thing sounds absolutely marvelous. I love it. And I am nodding and grinning and sighing at your early days of parenthood. I remember those days well and I didn’t have TWINS to contend with.
I love that you’ve made this an annual gig – what FABULOUS and funny memories you’re sharing and making. Way easier than eggs, apparently. 🙂
I can imagine in 70 years, my offspring’s offspring saying, “Like, why do we, like, chuck the spatula anyway?”
I had a meltdown after the birth of each child. Those hormones are boogers. The most embarrassing episode was after child #2. Child #1, not yet 3 years-old, was ill with a fever and cough, hovering over the newborn, touching and spitting on everything. Doc order some meds which I was told would be delivered. When they weren’t delivered I called the pharmacy to see if I needed to instead pick them up. The pharmacist replied, “Well, if you want your child to get well I suppose you should.” I choked back tears and said, “Are you getting smart with me?” Then hung up and bawled, without letting him explain himself.
Throwing a spatula would have been therapeutic. Instead I mouthed off and slammed down a phone. Not my finest moment.
Loved your story.
Using sarcasm on an exhausted mother with a sick child and a newborn is like coming taunting a mother bear in front of her cubs. Don’t. Go. There. You did well just to hang up. I don’t miss those days. But a newborn asleep in my arms still makes me go all warm and fuzzy.
Mothers of twins are 50% more likely to have a melt-down…
…I should know, I have about five a day (melt-downs, not twins).
It’s all fun and games until someone loses eye, via spatula…
ROFL, Paige. Can you imagine five sets of twins? My math’s not that good anymore. I’d have to buy spatulas wholesale.
Wait. Are you telling me it’s almost Father’s Day?
Crap.
I know. It’s the day more guilt visits us.
What an awesome way to own your meltdown! Does the hurling contest extend to other kitchen implements? Is there a size limit? Like could I, for instance, huck the extremely expensive, extremely heavy food processor that I only use to shred cheese then spend 30 minutes cleaning up when I should have just used a manual grater?
When I’m super angry, I don’t yell or even raise my voice; instead, I kick things. Inanimate objects. Usually backpacks.
But other kitchen implements? Absolutely.
Maybe we should have a Give-A-Useless-Kitchen-Item-Away Blog Day.
This will be my first Fathers Day. All I did for my wife was a blog post where I put mustaches on my twins. She didn’t want anything. I’m not expecting anything yet. But when my kids get old enough to spend money I will train them to get me gifts.
Hahaha inappropriate mustaches make me laugh out loud. I must read this post. Immediately.
@Rob, if you don’t get something chucked at you or a wall, call it a good day. But given that you’re a DAD, I know it’ll be a great day. Worth the wait, eh?
@Jess, go read that post and view the pics. Rob=great guy.
What a great family tradition! MUCH better than gifts he will never use and absolutely no room for guilt of any kind. I think this just might catch on. You’re a genius – that’s all there is to it, a genius. And you’re funny, too – it’s a win-win.
Thanks, Diana. Sometimes the weirdest traditions come out of tragedy. I’m thinking Easter? Okay, talk about comparing a discordant chord to a full symphony…
I’ll think of you as I hurl the spatula!
Spatula-throwing as an Olympic event — I can totally see it coming!
Jodi
Well, they do have the Welly toss in Scotland, right? 😉
Leanne:
Our bio-rhythms are strangely close. I didn’t see this post until right now. Why? Because I have been busy writing tomorrow’s post about why I am a terrible wife and mother. To quote Stevie Nicks, (because – you know, I like to quote song lyrics) tomorrow’s post may seem “hauntingly familiar.”
I suck at Father’s Day. And (*insert whine*), this post and your article make me want to hit delete, but I shall press on. I mean I already hit “Schedule.” So. Well. It’s happening. But maybe you’ll feel better to know that you are not alone. Wait, that’s Kristen’s #MyWana, so you already know that.
You know what I mean. Usually before I even write it. 😉
This is further proof how we’re bound to meet up in real life. And stop selling yourself short. You’re awesome. And if you don’t start believing that, I’m going to send the voice in my head to beat up the voice in your head. Love ya! 😉
(Notice the brackets – this is a secret!
I never tell my DH it’s Father’s day, he never realises, then he isn’t disappointed. We don’t celebrate Mother’s day either. Mothering Sunday is a religious festival – and something totally different….
Sshhhh, he may hear)
So so clever.
You’re being too hard on your self, Leanne! You’re only human (It’s true, sorry!), but from what I can see, you’re a great Mom and wife.
Well, if too err in human…
Loved your article, Leanne! Your family sounds freakishly similar to mine. (No, I’m not emphasizing the FREAKish part. Why would you think that?) An annual spatula-throwing contest would fit right in with the Green family traditions, lol.
Yup, FREAKish fits the bill here. 🙂
I don’t really do much of anything for father’s day,(see I don’t even capitalize it!!!) except I TRY to not bitch as much as normal… I’m going to try and be a better person, next year… lol
LOL. Not complaining can be a huge gift. Or, so I’ve heard…
I got a Pillow Pet yesterday. Going to be hard to ever top that. Unless I get another one.
I love it, Leanne…Spatula Throwing could be the next great Canadian sport (I’d rather do that than golf for sure!).
Wendy