IN MEMORIAM: DADS

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Last week, we were on vacation in Florida.

I won't go into detail about the vacation itself. You don't need to hear about our 2 kids on the all day airplane rides from coast to coast. You also do not need to hear about the thunderstormy Florida humidity. The kids swam for many hours every day, we ate out a lot, visited with my family and all the little cousins, and counted down the days till we could move into our new house.

Actually the highlight of the trip from a pure tourism perspective was watching a dozen alligators jump for organ meat on a stick at the zoo. And who could blame them. Who doesn't enjoy a nice spleen.

Anyway, I digress terribly because this post is not about any of those things. It's about my worry that fatherhood as we once knew it has disappeared.

We spent the early part of the vacation, as I said, with my brother and sister and their kids and spouses. We are all bright human beings with really great roles in society. An attorney, a nonprofit marketing director, a rabbi, and a teacher. And Don and me.

And yet, when you add 4 kids to the mix -- even when 1 is 8 years old going on 40 -- it's like none of us can manage our way out of a paper bag. The different eating, sleeping, playing, and socializing schedules boggled the mind. When we made a meal together, it looked like we had fed the 3rd Legion.

And this post isn't about any of those things either. It's about what I observed when the balls were all in play. We all chased our kids around with kleenexes, favorite toys, sunblock, and Cheerio baggies. ALL of us. All 6 of us.

Flash back to my childhood. My mom did all those things. My dad... well, he was Funny Dad. He didn't wipe our noses or smear us with the sunblock, usually. I suppose on the odd moment when my mom was trying to use the rest room or give birth, and he HAD to, he did it. But in general, he was there for clueless comic relief and also, did the driving.

Watching my family last week, I get the feeling that Funny Dad doesn't really exist anymore. When there are 2 working parents as there often are, everyone's roles blur. But what happens is that everyone becomes Mom. You don't have 2 Funny Dad's, you have 2 frazzled people who are chasing and wiping and bathing. In other words, 2 Moms.

I am not so sure this is a good thing. Funny Dad was a brilliant thing to have. He was more like a kid in some ways, so he was more relatable. (He didn't understand my mom either and got sent to his room too.) You could always count on Funny Dad to mess things up really horribly and laugh hysterically. Taught us to laugh at ourselves. And that's a pretty good skill.

I am not sure what Don's dad was like growing up, but I have a feeling he was somewhere in between TV Dinner Dad and Pull My Finger Dad. 2 genres that are as much a relic as Funny Dad. TV Dinner Dad teaches you that it's okay to take some time out for yourself... even when it's the most inconvenient time possible for everyone else. Pull My Finger Dad teaches you... hm, maybe that one ought to be retired, after all.

Nonetheless, I'm sure that most of you reading this had a dad type that's now a dinosaur of sorts. And actually it makes me a little sad. Our kids will all grow up washing their hands at the appropriate times and they'll be very good sleepers... but will they be light and free and just enjoy being themselves? Who's teaching them that?

OK, don't get all mad at me. Me and my Big Career perpetuate much of this. And I like sharing the load with Don (even though I have to admit, it doesn't go both ways, I can't change the oil for example) and I think it helps our girls to have a male role model that knows their inner workings, and not just their favorite ice cream or something. Still, I feel it's incumbent on me to keep part of Funny Dad alive. A half hour more of glitter paint and no bath ain't going to hurt anyone.