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Father's Day 2010 Recap

Hello! I hope you all had a fantastic Father’s Day with your child(ren) and families. Last Thursday, I blogged about Father’s Day and Single Motherhood (loved the comments!). Yesterday, I experienced the real thing for the third straight year in a row.

The day started with me waking up at 7 A.M. sweating. I searched for the time on my alarm clock and to my surprise the screen was black. So, I moved my eyes to the cable box and found that it was also black. My condo was still and quiet—and warm. I pushed myself up and out of bed to find…

That when I flicked the hallway light switch up, nothing happened. I moved my hand into the bathroom and flicked that switch up and down, up and down. Nothing. For a split second, I panicked that I maybe forgot to pay my electric bill. There were no bills on my desk so that was an indication I didn’t default on payment. Good.

I heard a clump and then little footsteps—and then saw JD emerge from his room with his blue blanket pinched between his hand. “Mommy, I want milky,” he said. He then walked over to the television and pushed the "on" button. Nothing. “Mommy, T broken.” I was still sleeping and sweating. I opened the front door to find the emergency lights on in the hallway and my mom friend Alison walking towards the garbage room in her pajamas with a bag from her diaper genie. “Power’s out!” she confirmed. Argh! “I want milky, Mommy!” JD said. Of all days! Of all days! No lights! No AC! I just spent $80 at the grocery store yesterday!

Luckily, the milk was still cold. I poured him a cup and moved some items into the freezer to keep them from spoiling. Next I filled a mug with water and poured it into my Keurig, but d’oh, the power was off, so no coffee for me. NOT GOOD. JD and I settled on the floor and built with blocks and played with flashlights—even though the condo was well-lit since the sun was up and I opened the blinds. JD told me 400 times that, “the T broken.” I stretched out on the floor and counted to 10. With that, no coffee and the fact that it was now 78 degrees in the condo and about 80 outside, we aborted—to Starbucks, the bagel store and the park. And I really didn’t want to go to the park yesterday because I didn’t feel like exposing JD to dads and kids. We went anyway.

At the park, I was greeted by a few kids and their fathers—and not their mothers. JD heard various kids call out “Daddy” and then like a parrot JD said “Daddy,” but thankfully he didn’t say, “Mommy, where my daddy go?” like he has in the past—because after the morning we had (I didn't even shower because the bathroom was black), I wasn’t prepared to have the, “some kids live with mommy, some kids live with mommy and daddy, some kids live with grandma, some kids (like 30) get adopted by Angelina Jolie” talk. I popped him into a swing and pushed him “super-high” like he asked and sipped my latte. The sun was bright and hot, but we were in the shade and there was a soft breeze that smelled like grass. JD squealed as I pushed him higher. His smile was wide and little folds of skin revealed themselves under his eyes. I remembered for a moment, his baby smile—that big gummy smile. JD is always smiling. No matter what day of the week.

One of my mom friends, T, entered the park with her son M and came over to us. I was surprised to see her. She’s married. It’s Father’s Day. T told me despite her husband working 60-hour-weeks, he decided to spend this day, Father’s Day, golfing. I could tell she was annoyed, but didn’t press. We pushed our boys side-by-side and I felt strangely connected to this married mom. The boys laughed, NOT A CARE IN THE WORLD, and we smiled softly at them, with all the care in the world, truly.

We spent the rest of the day with my Dad, swimming, then dining out. (JD was surprisingly well-behaved at the fancy restaurant—which I completely peg to the 10-set box of Matchbox cars my dad gave him. Oh, the power came back on.

How did you celebrate Father’s Day? Did any of your husbands or partners want the day off to golf or relax without you and your child(ren)?