I think it might have been Father's Day when I realized my dad was drinking again...I don't remember the occasion for sure, but I know it was at Red Lobster and that he ordered a beer and that I immediately knew I was going to have to tell my mom, even though at that point they had been divorced for at least 20 years.
Anyway, now Father's Day is all about celebrating my husband, a dad deserving of celebration.
I'm sure there are men out there who really love celebrating themselves, but my husband is not one of them. I usually just plan brunch and hope he likes it, knowing he will likely choose to work at night because it's his day and I can't give him shit about it.
I simultaneously love and hate the cliche Father's Day gifts. He's received a few coffee mugs and yes, even a tie with photos of the boys on it once. There's just something really funny about giving my husband, a non-traditional guy in most senses, the most traditional gift. Actually, funnier than giving him those gifts is the fact that the kids seem drawn to them, like media-trained little sheep. This year he got a screwdriver, but to be fair it was a cool one from Brookstone. (And seriously, does Brookstone exist because of Father's Day?)
This is where I was going to tell you how disappointed I am that my wayward stepson could not even be bothered to return the multiple text messages I sent inviting him to his father's brunch today...but you see, I promised myself when I started this blog that I wouldn't splash his life across these pages, so I won't go into it. Other than to say that I will raise my boys to know that their parents deserve at least a phone call on all relevant holidays and birthdays. At least being code for you better be in a different state if I'm not going to actually see you.
Now go hug your dad or the favorite dad in your life.
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