Dad, The Annoying
Every year at this time, I remember my Dad’s birthday with a small tribute.
But my Dad was just a guy after all, and he could be just as annoying as any guy.
Like his housework mentality.
My mother worked for many years as a nurse at the city hospital. This meant working every other weekend, and on those weekends she was scheduled at the hospital, my father was in charge at home.
And when I was a teenager, he developed a special method for weekend housework. The method was this: he got up at dawn and did it all.
As I said, I was a teenager. Teenagers need a lot of sleep. Right? A lot more than grownups. Right? I wasn’t lazy; I was tired. Right?
And it wasn’t my fault that Dad did all the housework before I ever got out of bed. Right?
Because Dad’s motives were not exactly pure.
He loved – and I mean LOVED – to greet my mother when she arrived home with the following announcement:
“I did all the housework and the kids didn’t even help!”
Yeah. All you women are nodding your heads right now.
My Dad was a guy after all.
My mother once told me (in private) after he tattled on our Saturday sloth , “Don’t worry about it. Your father likes being a martyr. He’s a man.”
Every day I miss my father’s sweet and generous nature.
– like today –
I miss his annoying self too.