Flipping the calendar to June always makes me think about the end of the school year. Graduations, tournament games and final performances, big tests and me releasing my useless grip on micromanaging kid homework, closing out of one rhythm and beginning a summer rhythm. And somewhere in the middle of all that, our household needs to jam in a meaningful Father’s Day.
It’s not easy.
If I put myself in my husband’s shoes and imagine an ideal day from his perspective, it might include a family day of fishing on a quiet lake. He’d like lunch that includes sushi but also cheese balls. He would enjoy a luxurious nap not interrupted by a barking dog and appreciate nobody wasting money on cheap socks that feature a dad joke. But putting together that day and executing it with all the personalities involved? Well, there are better odds of us being struck by lightning while fishing. My husband will not see a nice, quiet lake day because he has not been blessed with a nice, quiet family.
He, like many fathers, has ended up with a plethora of useless gifts collected over time. Ties. Socks. Fishing equipment he should have picked out himself. Handmade clay objects that required far too much explanation. Clothing he doesn’t want. Coupons for chores that will never be redeemed. The list is long but heartfelt. The best Father’s Day gift we ever gave him, bar none, was a black leather Lazy Boy Recliner. Is it beautiful? No. Does it contribute to a more pleasing room aesthetic? No. Has he sat in it 50,000 times? Yes.
So, it may not be about the tangible but more about the intangibles. Just being together under any circumstances. Any circumstances. We can’t guarantee to make it special. We can only guarantee to make it memorable.
A few years ago, we had a quieter Father’s Day at home and grilled on our deck. People were crabby (I won’t name names). I couldn’t get the crowd under control. Then conversation picked up, and I had a glimmer of hope. But then it took a weird turn as the kids fixated on whether or not Dad had ever punched anyone in the face. It turns out we all learned something interesting that day. He had. In 7th grade. Our kids were delighted with this revelation, if not slightly disappointed it was his only violent act. In moments like this, I always wonder what the normal families talk about over burgers.
Last year, on Father’s Day, we were flying to a lacrosse tournament in Colorado for our youngest son. My husband told me to sit with our son, and he would sit alone in the bulkhead seat. His sacrifice did not go unpunished. It was a disaster. He ended up sitting next to an eighty-pound service dog. The dog sat on my husband’s foot and spewed his hot breath into his face for the duration of the flight. I’d like to say we were sympathetic, but my son and I were two rows behind him across the aisle, and we cried laughing watching this unfold. We took pictures.
Such is the work of fatherhood. Taking one for the team. Managing mayhem. Enduring the crises. Eating the leftovers. Absorbing the metaphorical dog breath so others can be spared and enjoy clean air.
To all the fathers and father figures out there…we know you’d love peace and quiet for one complete day. We would love to honor that. But it isn’t going to happen. It’s just not in the cards, but ironically, you will get a lot of handmade cards. So, can we interest you in a funny graphic t-shirt or some hot sauce that will make you ill? If not, we know you will do your best to act like it was exactly what you were hoping for all along.
Jen Fortner is a freelance writer who enjoys asking friends and strangers far too many questions. She spends her spare time sitting in inclement weather watching youth sports, traveling, cooking, and searching for the very best baked goods. She lives in the Southwest Metro with her husband, three children and the most spoiled dog.