electric boogaloo

You took the boys fishing today, out in the aluminum boat with your dad. Same thing you did last year which means now you’re stuck. It’s a Father’s Day tradition and now you have to do it forever. Just like how I started doing this annual blog post full of you and now if I didn’t do it one year you’d would be like wait — was I not a good dad this year? So now you’re stuck. Fishing and me saying nice things about you. Sucks to be you!

As I sifted through zillions of messy folders of photos from this past year, I only found a few that show your face. You hate having your picture taken and I don’t like hassling you about it, but it’s important for the kids to know what you looked like before the chipmunk mauling of ‘22. So I sort of feel like a spy, sneaking snapshots when it’s not too annoying. But the result is kind of cool — I don’t have any posed “smile for the camera!” pictures of you. All I have are collected bits that show what you do on a normal saturday afternoon with your kids. It’s more real this way.

Except the pictures are totally silent. That part is bullshit.

This year has been a noisy one in parenting land. Going from last summer when we had a two year old who didn’t talk much and an ornery five year old to having a very chatty three year old and a mostly cheerful six year old was a full 12-month process.

Like always, I think that you don’t think you’re a good enough father. Is that a common dad thing? Or are your standards insane? I can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter much because you are the person and the father that you are — regardless of what most people do. I don’t know what you think you should be like. Never grumpy? Never tired? Perfectly in tune all the time, able to discipline one child with a firm but fair hand while at the same time bathing and putting together a snap-together model of the Titanic with the other child?

I’m not being a smartass; I really don’t know what you worry that you aren’t doing. Because from my perspective, you’re exactly what our kids need from you. You love the neverending heck out of them, you treat them with respect and dignity while still insisting that they behave like members of a society. You encourage them to be good to each other, to laugh at themselves, and to keep trying things that are hard. They are happy when you are home.

1. Thank you for not running away screaming into the night even though there are days when no one would blame you. I don’t care how much we love ours, the brutal fact is that all little kids are hard to be around. You spend time with them even when they are being assholes, and you never blame them for being assholes. Whenever a phase gets out of hand, you want to look at what we’re doing wrong. What should we be doing differently? What do they need that we aren’t giving them? Then we work on it, and it gets better and they start working on new horrible things they can do all the time.

2. Thank you for raising our kids to not take life too seriously. God, I take daily life too seriously. Your humor sets a tone for our best days. This will sound dorky to say but I really think when the boys are grown and they remember their childhood, they will remember laughing and joking and being picked on and being allowed to pick back.

On the train to New York; boys demonstrating play doh coming out of their noses.

3. Thank you for both your faith and your skepticism towards the Ard School of Arts and Sciences. Without your faith in me to homeschool our kids, we’d be missing out on this. And without your skepticism I wouldn’t be so driven to do a good job and prove you wrong.

Nicolaus, upset because seagulls do not trust him, receives words of comfort.

4. Thanks for being so different from me. The kids need that. You encourage their love of nature, science, music. You encourage them to try new foods, you are totally honest with them all the time, except for the Santa business. And they know that you are the one with the cooler games on your iPhone.

Graham and you by the campfire.

5. The boys thank you for gently letting me know when I’m being a grumpy mother for no reason. And I thank you for doing so without using the actual word bitch.

Out in the horrible fucking cold wet awful horribleness, because the boys wanted to see the snow.

6. Thanks for keeping all of Graham’s imaginary knives in your truck. They would clutter up the house.

At the carwash.

7. Thank you for carrying Graham when his feet are tired even though your feet are so tired that they hurt so bad that you went to a doctor to find out why and he made you do a bunch of things to your feet like soak your feet and get shots in your feet and stretch and rest and jesus, carrying an extra 35 pounds can’t help.

8. Thank you for setting up your studio. It has been two years, dude. Nicolaus is very excited that you are going to start making things again… he remembers watching you work. He admires you so much for making jewelry and still proudly tells people that you make things out of metal. I know it’s hard to get back into the swing of it, and I know we don’t really have a big enough space for you but you are awesome for giving it a shot. It teaches the boys a lot, and it helps them to know you better.

9. Thank you for the puppy. That has to do with fatherhood in some wonderful, meaningful way which I was going to connect to the rest of this post but omg the puppy wants to play fetch and he is so cute!

One day I’ll get you a pet that you enjoy this much. We’ll have some land, with trees and water. We’ll have a garden and a tiny jewel of a house. There’ll be a porch littered with art and decoration. We’ll have a couple of chickens for eggs, we’ll have a goat and another dog or two. And if there is any way we can swing it I promise you I will get you that talking half-chipmunk half-dachsund that you dreamed about the other night. Because look! I have two kids! So see? Dreams do come true.

I love you, Kevin, so damned much.