This is the time of year when the dadbloggers push out their obligatory posts about What Father's Day Means To Them. I will freely admit to not giving much of a shit about Father's Day. Perhaps I'm numbed by the avalanche of PR pitches in the DadCentric Inbox (really, Robert Verdi? Scented candles?) and the sheer number of Father's Day Giveaways taking place around the Internets. But this is a dadblog, and so I feel like I need to post something about Father's Day, even though I feel like the holiday itself has become an excuse for the kind of self-congratulatory wanking that most of us who live in the real world despise. Luckily, I came across a great interview with comedian Louis C.K.; in it, he pretty much sums up what I feel about fatherhood in general and Father's Day in particular:
Slate: In an episode from the first season of Louie, a single mom your character meets at a PTA meeting tells you, "Just by showing up, you're father of the year." Do you think you have more freedom to talk about being a dad because there are fewer expectations placed on fathers in general?
Louis C.K.: It's funny—in life, those roles have all changed. There's a lot of fathers who take care of their kids, there's a lot of mothers who have careers. But in culture, those roles are still the same. When I take my kids out for dinner or lunch, people smile at us. A waitress said to my kids the other day, "Isn't that nice that you're getting to have a little lunch with your daddy?" And I was insulted by it, because I'm like, I'm fucking taking them to lunch, and then I'm taking them home, and then I'm feeding them and doing their homework with them and putting them to bed. She's like, Oh, this is special time with daddy. Well, no, this is boring time with daddy, the same as everything.
If I do something for my kids, I get a medal, because most fathers don't. If a mother makes a tremendous effort for her kids and does incredible things, no one gives a shit, because she's a mom, and that's what she's supposed to do. It's like giving a bus driver a medal for driving straight ahead. Nobody's interested. And that's really not fair, but it is the way it is.
For me, that's it in a nutshell. At this point in my life, fatherhood's that old pair of running shoes; I love wearing 'em, they're a bit banged up but comfy as hell, and unlike a new pair of shoes I don't really feel the need to show everyone how great they are. Am I a good dad? Most of the time, I suppose; you should ask my kids, when they're in their mid-30's and have some sense of how the world really works. Do I need a holiday, or societal recognition? It's nice, I guess, but you know what would be great? If the kids would just pick up the damn wet Cheerios when they drop them on the tile floor, because when the milk dries it's like frigging Super Glue and I need to chisel that shit off with a hammer and a butterknife.
Recent Comments