Someone Who Shall Remain Nameless: So are you still being Mr. Mom?
Me: You know, the term “Dad” works just fine.
Sure, I could have just let it go. I could have replied, “Yes, I am still being Mr. Mom.” thus avoiding the awkward pause that ensued. Don’t take it personally, I used to tell myself. It’s just a (tired, lame, unfunny) joke. But this terminology is pinned on me often and I have recently decided I am done with just letting it go.
It’s not that I feel emasculated wrangling the Twins all week. I challenge any “man’s man” who thinks stay-at-home parenting is for sissies to actually try it for one day. (In fact, I imagine it could make for a thoroughly entertaining reality show, with each episode culminating in a grown man sobbing.) It’s definitely not easy, but at the same time it’s also the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. Many fathers would jump at the opportunity to spend as much time with their children as I do, especially at this age. I blinked when they were eight months old and was suddenly thrown into a DeLorean which promptly accelerated to 88 miles per hour, traversing space and time to today, as I open my eyes and find them eleven months old. Until I can get the Flux Capacitor to flux again, I make an effort each day to take it all in (and document it in HD) because I know how fleeting babyhood is.
“Every once in a while, when I’m changing a poop-filled diaper, I feel the slightest gag reflex.”
…and as I underwent this very special feeling today, it occurred to me that this is the first-ever situation I’ve experienced where I don’t necessarily mind the possibility of impending nauseous retching, aside, of course, from the occasional amusement park thrill ride.
It is also in this moment that I felt I graduated from New Father Academy, and may even be able to pass “Go,” and collect $200.
So today, this Fathers’ Day 2011 (my first as patriarch), please join me in celebrating myself, and I guess, if there’s time, all of the other fathers out there, who, too, have quietly and determinedly pushed through rear-end sanitation and other such thankless tasks; who animatedly read bedtime stories in voices that, in public, would warrant the permanent revocation of their Man Cards; who construct playthings while suppressing the exasperation engendered by the Worst Assembly Directions Ever Written; who throw out their backs while playing a little harder than necessary at the park for just one more giggle from their little people.
This is their day, and they’ve earned it.
While on the topic of fecal matters, please allow me to apologize, O Loyal Reader, for the lapse in posts on this fine publication as of late. After consulting its physician, Twinfamy is now on fiber supplements, which means you can expect more regularity again starting this week, starting with a brand new Twincident tomorrow, which, faithful to today’s brown-hued theme, will feature the unification of Number Two and a Pseudonymous family member’s face. Yes, you heard me right: Poop + Face = Ensuing Hilarity.
Try to contain yourself ’til then.
Happy Fathers’ Day!