A (Sort of) Father's Day Tale
Father's Day is right around the corner, which makes our friend Pat contemplate the differences, and the misunderstandings, between men and women. Read her sort-of-Father's-Day-tale right here!
As Father’s Day approaches, I am reminded of an incident that convinced me the males in my household apparently believe I possess gender attributes that enable me to serve as their personal computer or homing device.
The actress and comedian Roseanne Barr may have put it best: “Husbands (and children) think we should know where everything is: like the uterus is a tracking device.” I am familiar with this because my spouse and sons were always asking where their possessions might be hiding. Am I supposed to say things like: “I don’t know where your baseball glove is – let me turn my uterus to the left to see if I can locate it”?
They apparently also believe I should be using my limited brain cells more on their behalf than mine. This became only too evident the year my then-teenage son glared at me and then growled as he stomped up the stairs to make a card because he neglected to purchase one: “You never told me today was Father’s Day.”
Huh? I understood that he might have missed the “Father’s Day” notation on the kitchen calendar or on the one in his bedroom where he recorded his various social events.
But how could he ignore that big white board where everyone’s weekly schedule and major events (like Father’s Day!) are listed each week in black marker? And just two days earlier I’d even braved the “don’t come any closer and embarrass me zone” at his supermarket job to say in my cheeriest voice, “Don’t forget that Sunday is Father’s Day.”
When I reminded him of this as he was charging up the stairs, he snarled, “But you didn’t tell me that today is Sunday.”
I was flabbergasted. These men also expect me to also announce each day’s schedule? That is way too much to expect from a woman known to put her purse away in the freezer by mistake.
I decided then that it was time to draw the line. There would be no daily announcements. My brain and uterus needed a vacation. The previous time I took a stand like this was the day my husband said: “Do I like to eat this?”
He never asked again.