From the Diary of a Mad Housedad
By Tim Cerantola
How an flippant remark turned into 9 years of hard labour. But the lessons learned and the love shared have made it just a labour of love.
Once again, it’s birthday time for my wonderful (and lovely) twin daughters.
Each year it’s their Daddy’s job to bake and decorate two birthday cakes; my wife says it’s because I’m such a talented (she doesn’t have the time) baker and cake decorator. Birthdays are still fun and easy for me, but according to a close pal, not for long.
Ben’s daughter is turning 13 and he has warned me of the sophisticated teen years ahead. This year his daughter is talking boys, formal wear and shrimp cocktail appetizers.
Even the word “caterer” was mentioned during the planning of her 13th birthday celebration.
Personally, I blame “Mr. & Mrs. Mattel” and their spoiled, materialistic, brat daughter, Barbie (not to mention her silver-spooned snob boyfriend Ken), for this.
The trouble with kids is that they eventually grow up. I’m going to miss these uncomplicated, low-cost birthday affairs. A few streamers a bunch of balloons, 50 pounds of sugary junk food treats and an annual visit from “Frumpo” the dad… em, clown.
The point I’m trying to make is this: My daughters are growing up and I’m going to miss my little girls.
This year they are tuming 9, which means I have been a full-time dad/free-lance writer for 9 years now.
And although I’ve had to work much harder at homemaking and being a good father, I seem to get credit and recognition for my writing only.
I attribute my house-husband plight in life to an errant remark I made long ago. You know what they say: “What goes around comes around.”
Many years ago I said something very stupid. Not that I don’t say stupid things on a daily basis, but I made a disparaging comment with regard to the job of the 20th century mother and homemaker.
While debating with a few female friends, I jokingly, but nevertheless arrogantly, argued that mothering was a cinch — adding that with all of the modem appliances and conveniences, homemaking was a leisurely life of luxury.
Stupid, stupid, STUPID! How could I say something so stupid? I have been eating my words ever since.
After devoting the last 9 years of my life to my family, I no longer feel this way.
I have, as they say, seen the light. Although I have found working with my children to be enormous fun and life-affirming, being a homemaker and a full-time dad (or mum) is one helluva lot of hard work.
I have learned (and this merely scratches the surface) that:
♦ there are no coffee breaks, designated lunch hours or quitting times when it comes to homemaking/raising children.
♦ to promote a sense of security, confidence and self-worth, children need at least 50 reassuring hugs per day; full-time daddy’s need even more.
♦ unless you go to the grocery store, your refrigerator will remain empty.
♦ children make a lot of noise, especially when (and because) you don’t want them to.
♦ clothing starts to smell if you don’t put it in the washer.
♦ children start to smell if you don’t put them in the bath.
♦ children always demand your attention, especially when you’re in the shower.
♦ your family will turn on you if you serve them Kraft Dinner three nights in a row.
♦ if you’re not vigilant, things you cannot eat will start growing in your refrigerator.
♦ if you don’t put out the garbage every week, Mount Garbage will start taking shape in your backyard.
♦ dishes will not go away or be done magically by fairies if you leave them dirty ovemight.
♦ you can’t just close their playroom door and pretend it’s clean.
♦ if the phone rings, it’s only because they know you’re in the washroom.
♦ if you don’t wash your windows once in a while, your family will continually assume inclement weather and be inclined to take umbrellas wherever they go.
♦ if you wait long enough, a thin film settles on everything in the house. My mother calls this stuff “dust”(?) .
Finally, the bosses never pat me on the back for cleverly thinking ahead, displaying amazing efficiency or saving the company (household) some money through thrifty practices.
But, if I’ve done my job well, at the end of the day my bosses will kiss me and say, “Good night, Daddy. I love you”
