Father’s Day Cognative Dissonance

Tomorrow is my first Father’s Day that I’ll celebrate  just as a father, and not for my father, and I’m finding it very sad.

It makes me sad to receive thanks for something I asked to do. “Father” is a moniker I asked for.  It can be incredibly difficult, but so emotionally rewarding, that getting thanked for doing it seems hypocritical.

It makes me sad, because I can and should  be a better father. I make mistakes every day, I can be a terrible role model, I am often a lazy and inattentive dad, yet my son just adores me regardless.  It kills me.

A year ago we took my father out to Fish Camp for Father’s Day, it was the last time I went out with him to a restaurant.  He was a deeply flawed man, and made mistakes as a father everyday and when I was young, I adored him, and even after I’m old enough know that he should have and could have been a better father, I still adore him…and miss him.

My father loved that Father’s Day dinner, he loved to adored.  Although he would never admit it, he loved to be appreciated, to be the center of attention, I think he got something out of Father’s Day.

I don’t.

Not yet, anyway. Maybe, if after years of being under appreciated, I’ll learn to enjoy the attention of Father’s Day, even if I’m still a far from perfect father.  Something to look forward to I guess.


That Guy

I wasn’t sure what kind of father I would be, but I didn’t want to be “That guy.” You now the guy, a dad who looks overwhelmed, lost his individuality, lost will will to live.

Merrell merrell jungle moc

Jungle Mocs, hideously comfortable

Looks like he just rolled out of bed, wears fleece everything and overly comfortable shoes.

Oh, no, I wasn’t gonna be that guy…

In the last year I wore my first fleece sweatshirt and my first pair of loafers,  Merrell Jungle Mocs, (possibly the most comfortable, yet ugliest shoe created.)

The fleece was a gift from my mom I never worn, I had to run out to the store one morning and needed to throw something over that oatmeal stain.  I grabbed the Old Navy fleece, and it was so soft and comfortable, and suddenly I didn’t care that it was made from  toxic plastic bottles. I have since gotten 2 more.

I stumbled across the loafers on sale at DSW. They were so hideous looking, like suede potato-bugs, that I tried them on as a joke.  They slipped on and off so easily, they were waterproof, warm in the snow, and made my Converse feel like some kind of GitMo torture shoe.  I wore them out of the store and relegated my Chuck Taylors to the back of the closet.

So yes, I am slowly morphing into “that guy.”  But I can still clean up “purty good,” but if I’m going to be chasing a toddler through the zoo all day, I better be dry, warm, and comfortable.

Besides, I draw the line at draw-string pants…actually, do you think those Penguin lounge pants are stain resistant?

This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife!

<span How did I get here?
In the back of my head, I always thought I'd be a father someday…the key word is someday.  But in the meantime I was just going to enjoy life. And being an indie J.A. in New York, there is a lot to enjoy.  As I was floating through my existence, I woke wand realized I now had a beautiful wife, 2 beautiful cats, an beautiful son, and a beautiful home.  It was very anti-kafkaesque, I was the same, but everything else was different, and better. More Frank Capra than Franz Kafka. In any event, raising a brood in Brooklyn has been a trip.  Turns out I really really like being a dad and a husband, a lot more than I i liked being a hipster doofus, and I'd like to share my discoveries and observations, and get yours.
My entourage then…  and now!