My husband and I have been married for 23 (glorious) years and parents for nearly 18. Our road to parenthood did not come easy and during those years of waiting for that very slow stork to arrive, I would fantasize about how I would spend my first Mother’s Day. I was certain Barbara Walters would want an exclusive interview of that riveting moment I tore into my first heartfelt card addressed to me as—MOM.
What I didn’t consider, though, was the fact that my husband would beat me to the punch and he would have first cracks at celebrating Father’s Day before I could bask in the glow of my day. But who’s keeping score?
Father’s Day arrived less than a week after our baby girl did and because our adoption in Denver, Colorado happened so quickly, I barely had time to pack our toothbrushes, never mind think about buying something clever and special for his first Father’s Day. I managed to snap a photo with our super-sized Polaroid camera of him holding our daughter in our comfy Marriott Residence Inn suite and placed it lovingly in a drugstore frame—I was new at this, but it was a start.
Eighteen years later, my husband, proud father of eight, has since received a plethora of gifts ranging from decadent to downright foolish, with a few “just right” thrown in for good measure.
For his next Father’s Day, I was due to deliver our second child at any moment, so I planned ahead and bought him something every tired father deserved, a massaging recliner from the Sharper Image. No matter that it was one of the ugliest fabrications ever constructed out of faux leather, it had a dual vibrating/heating control system with headphones that played soothing sounds from nature—cackling birds from the rain forest, waves crashing on the shoreline, I think even a volcano erupting. I knew he had to have it.
I’m not sure he sat in it twice or turned it on once, so it soon found a home in our attic before we sold it for $30 at a yard sale.
By the third Father’s Day, pregnant and due soon yet again, I splurged on an infomercial product, The Total Gym, now insanely popular. Any father with three children under the age of two deserves to stay in shape, don’t you think?
And by the fourth… Yes… Pregnant with baby four, I considered airfare for one for a golf outing in Hawaii, but realized I couldn’t possibly leave him home alone with four kids under the age of three, so I opted for new golf clubs instead—that one went over big.
As our family continued to grow, however, those big-ticket items were no longer in the budget, so I had to get creative. The kids and I have since surprised him with mystery picnics (location not menu!), talking scrapbooks, karate lessons (a gift that kept on giving…he’s now a second degree black belt), and one of his all-time favorites was a journal that I kept for one year.
I started it the week school got out for summer vacation (when I still have my wits about me) and kept entries in it for the following year. Some weeks were short and sweet – “The stomach bug has plagued us. I will write more next week when I’m done washing 20 loads of vomit-laden bedding.” But it was one of his most memorable Father’s Day gifts, and the kids still enjoy reading it all these year’s later.
Well, it’s that time again where I rack my brains to try and deliver something ultra unique, and I think I just may have outdone myself. In order to honor his dedicated role as the father of a small tribe this year I have decided an action gift is in order rather than a material token and I’m calling it “Thou Shall Not Complain.”
You see, we are now in the height of Little League season and those closest to our family know that my usual sunny disposition gets buried alive for a good 10 weeks or so until the very last pitch has been thrown.
It’s nothing personal, I’m a huge fan of baseball and softball, it is what the wear and tear of having a handful of kids on different teams can do to a person. If you have kids that play ball, you understand my plight.
Our household usually has two games a night, never mind practices, and yes, that includes weekends. Neighbors have witnessed me doing rain dances at dawn just to get a game cancelled, but my poor husband gets the worst of it. Let’s just say it’s something other than “Take me out to the ballpark” that escapes my lips before each game.
So this year I decided it was only fair to give my husband a gift he’d never forget — a stress-free Little League Season. And knowing that habits take 21 days to form, I began right around Mother’s Day so by June 19, I’ll be whistling Dixie as I load a bunch of kids in the car and head to the field instead of torturing him with such lousy remarks like, “If you weren’t a pitcher in college these kids could be on a bowling league instead.” See what I mean, such nastiness.
“Operation Thou Shall Not Complain” has only been in effect for a few weeks now, but so far, I haven’t rolled my eyes, growled or left fake messages on our answering machine that games have been cancelled due to the team having the flu.
I’m back to asking, “How was your day, honey?” instead of “How could you do this to me?” and last night I arranged for our babysitter to come so just the two of us could go out to dinner before our son’s game — you know, an actual date.
While waiting for the game to begin my curious husband asked why the sudden change in my attitude, so I excitedly explained about this year’s inspired gift and waited for his response. Based on his reply, “I can’t wait to see what I’m getting for Christmas,” I’d say this one, painful as it has been, is proving a success.
I’m confident I can keep this up through June and although my husband is an amazing father, you know what they say about having too much of a good thing—it’s just not good for a person. That said, for Christmas this year I think I’ll get back to material tokens, so he can probably expect a new tie.
What I didn’t consider, though, was the fact that my husband would beat me to the punch and he would have first cracks at celebrating Father’s Day before I could bask in the glow of my day. But who’s keeping score?
Father’s Day arrived less than a week after our baby girl did and because our adoption in Denver, Colorado happened so quickly, I barely had time to pack our toothbrushes, never mind think about buying something clever and special for his first Father’s Day. I managed to snap a photo with our super-sized Polaroid camera of him holding our daughter in our comfy Marriott Residence Inn suite and placed it lovingly in a drugstore frame—I was new at this, but it was a start.
Eighteen years later, my husband, proud father of eight, has since received a plethora of gifts ranging from decadent to downright foolish, with a few “just right” thrown in for good measure.
For his next Father’s Day, I was due to deliver our second child at any moment, so I planned ahead and bought him something every tired father deserved, a massaging recliner from the Sharper Image. No matter that it was one of the ugliest fabrications ever constructed out of faux leather, it had a dual vibrating/heating control system with headphones that played soothing sounds from nature—cackling birds from the rain forest, waves crashing on the shoreline, I think even a volcano erupting. I knew he had to have it.
I’m not sure he sat in it twice or turned it on once, so it soon found a home in our attic before we sold it for $30 at a yard sale.
By the third Father’s Day, pregnant and due soon yet again, I splurged on an infomercial product, The Total Gym, now insanely popular. Any father with three children under the age of two deserves to stay in shape, don’t you think?
And by the fourth… Yes… Pregnant with baby four, I considered airfare for one for a golf outing in Hawaii, but realized I couldn’t possibly leave him home alone with four kids under the age of three, so I opted for new golf clubs instead—that one went over big.
As our family continued to grow, however, those big-ticket items were no longer in the budget, so I had to get creative. The kids and I have since surprised him with mystery picnics (location not menu!), talking scrapbooks, karate lessons (a gift that kept on giving…he’s now a second degree black belt), and one of his all-time favorites was a journal that I kept for one year.
I started it the week school got out for summer vacation (when I still have my wits about me) and kept entries in it for the following year. Some weeks were short and sweet – “The stomach bug has plagued us. I will write more next week when I’m done washing 20 loads of vomit-laden bedding.” But it was one of his most memorable Father’s Day gifts, and the kids still enjoy reading it all these year’s later.
You see, we are now in the height of Little League season and those closest to our family know that my usual sunny disposition gets buried alive for a good 10 weeks or so until the very last pitch has been thrown.
It’s nothing personal, I’m a huge fan of baseball and softball, it is what the wear and tear of having a handful of kids on different teams can do to a person. If you have kids that play ball, you understand my plight.
Our household usually has two games a night, never mind practices, and yes, that includes weekends. Neighbors have witnessed me doing rain dances at dawn just to get a game cancelled, but my poor husband gets the worst of it. Let’s just say it’s something other than “Take me out to the ballpark” that escapes my lips before each game.
So this year I decided it was only fair to give my husband a gift he’d never forget — a stress-free Little League Season. And knowing that habits take 21 days to form, I began right around Mother’s Day so by June 19, I’ll be whistling Dixie as I load a bunch of kids in the car and head to the field instead of torturing him with such lousy remarks like, “If you weren’t a pitcher in college these kids could be on a bowling league instead.” See what I mean, such nastiness.
“Operation Thou Shall Not Complain” has only been in effect for a few weeks now, but so far, I haven’t rolled my eyes, growled or left fake messages on our answering machine that games have been cancelled due to the team having the flu.
I’m back to asking, “How was your day, honey?” instead of “How could you do this to me?” and last night I arranged for our babysitter to come so just the two of us could go out to dinner before our son’s game — you know, an actual date.
While waiting for the game to begin my curious husband asked why the sudden change in my attitude, so I excitedly explained about this year’s inspired gift and waited for his response. Based on his reply, “I can’t wait to see what I’m getting for Christmas,” I’d say this one, painful as it has been, is proving a success.
I’m confident I can keep this up through June and although my husband is an amazing father, you know what they say about having too much of a good thing—it’s just not good for a person. That said, for Christmas this year I think I’ll get back to material tokens, so he can probably expect a new tie.
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