Tuesday, 8 January 2013
Are you on the edge of your seats? Have you been able to sleep? Relax…the time is here!!
Geesh, do you get this excited for my posts?
After reading Robert’s following letter of apology to his daughter for his many parenting faux pas, I can tell you this:
1) My children are NEVER watching Glee again. I wouldn’t be able to handle such a question.
2) I have never seen the movies Robert mentions and I have never stepped foot in a comic store...and I intend to keep it that way. Sarah, you are a good daughter.
3) Although I bitch about my kids and have my eyes set on the prize of them moving out; I am not, nor will I ever be ready for the next stage of parenting.
4) I have confirmed that teenage eye rolling is universal
Now without further delay…I introduce you to ‘The Hook’.
When Jessica first offered me the opportunity to guest post on her slice of cyber real estate, I was surprised - you can certainly understand why - but Jessica has proven herself to be extremely gracious and forgiving towards someone who tends to act before he thinks. My initial comments on this blog were born of a sense of concern for Jessica's children and to my eternal regret, feelings of great envy. I have been fighting for years to achieve that which Jessica has carved out for herself in a matter of weeks. But that was then. We've come a long way, haven't we, Jessica?
While I think her approach was brilliant, I know it wouldn't work for a father. If I went on strike, my household would probably run more efficiently than ever. Women are hardwired for parenthood, they have a God-given set of skills that allow them to always be quick on their feet and above all, to be sensitive to their family's needs.
I once bought my wife a toilet seat and a set of cupboard knobs for Mother's Day.
In my defense, the seat looked like an oyster shell and the knobs had flowers on them. Women love men who strive to improve the room they spend a great deal of their time in, right?
Don't answer that.
As for my approach to fatherhood, well it tends to follow suit. Here then, is my public apology to my fourteen-year-old daughter for the occasional parenting faux pas I've been responsible for.
I apologize for sidestepping questions like, "What's scissoring?" when we're watching Glee, by sending you to your mother - when she then sends you right back to me for an answer. I just needed the extra time to Google the definition... and to "water it down enough" to ensure you would accept it and not ask one of your friends instead.
Of course, there have been times that the direct approach hasn't exactly worked for me: when you asked me why Megan Fox was fired from the Transformers franchise I probably didn't need to recount the entire Holocaust. For those scratching their heads right now, Fox compared director Michael Bay to Hitler. At least it made for an interesting ride home from the movies, right?
Incidentally, I also have to apologize for dragging you to the last Transformers installment. I can still feel the weight of your glare as Rosie Huntington-Whiteley's scantily-clad form jiggled all over the screen. On the subject of movies, I admit the Green Lantern film was another cinematic mistake you can attribute to me. That was 114 minutes of bad judgment on my part, to be precise.
Just so you know, I'm making an honest effort to let your mother handle your laundry now; seven years of hearing about the wanton destruction of your favorite Strawberry Shortcake t-shirt has sunk in, I swear.
All those times I tried to be the "Cool Dad", only to fall slightly short? Please chalk those up to good intentions and my tendency to ignore your mother when she tells me "You're going to look like a huge dork! More than usual, if that's possible!"
Then there's the weekly trips to various comic book stores, which tend to be overrun by the, shall we say, socially-challenged members of our society? I swear, they mean well, honey. Personally, I've almost gotten used to that vacant look in your eyes as you scan the crowds at these stores (and the comic-cons I take you too), searching for a glimmer of normalcy, only to come up short. Every. Single. Time. As for your weekly query: "How did you ever get Mom to go out with you?" Well, if Mom ever gives me answer, I'll pass it along.
I know I've barely scratched the surface, but I'm going to launch a preemptive strike and discuss the future. As you get older and fully immerse yourself in teenage culture, you're going to see a change in dear ol' dad. To be frank, I'm going to go off the rails at times. Your mother and I have discussed this at length and we agreed that out of the two of us, I'm the best suited to play the crazy parent.
I'm sure you agree.
So when you bring home that first suitor, just ignore the baseball bat peeking out from behind the front door. Oh, and pay no attention to the shotgun that will suddenly be hanging above the mantle. That reminds me, we have to get a mantle.
I apologize for the times I'll have to play detective when you go out wearing slightly more make-up and upscale outfits, and go all CSI on your room. I promise to never read your diary. I'll let your mother take care of that.
The day you tell us you've found that special someone and you'll be walking down the aisle? Just give me a few minutes to myself. Being partly responsible for bringing such a perfect person into the world can really mess with a dad's head when he realizes he has to let go... a little bit, at least.
And that's as far into the future as I want to look, sweetheart. So the next time I mess up, and I will - I've already been responsible for two of the five eye rolls you've done as this post has been written - just remember that my mistakes spring from a place of love and respect. I'd admire you even if you weren't my daughter.
And yes, I realize that one is going to prompt another eye roll. What can I say? It's a gift.
Thank you Robert. A lot. Thank you for taking the time to write and share this on my blog. For your kindness (finally J) and our new bloggy friendship.
And for your honesty.
In regards to both your parenting and your words relating to our past.
What do you think folks?