Super Dad.

R. >> Super Dad, I was taught that as a modern feminist I have the right to expect a lot of you… so…

super dad

  • I expect you to bring home the bacon. Lots of it.
  • To walk in with a smile on your face after a long day of dealing with other people’s shit and then deal with your baby’s shit so that I can rest. Oh, and don’t be late.
  • I expect you to sweep me off my swollen feet and tell my disheveled self that I’m gorgeous, cactus legs and bushy brows and all.
  • That skinny, sexy, spontaneous girl you married? I expect you to forgive me for deviating from that.
  • You need to turn a blind eye to the half-messy kitchen that I had started cleaning before the baby woke up from her nap, and you could even finish it up for me, should you feel like it.
  • I forgot to transfer the laundry from the washer to the dryer. Yesterday. Can you start the rince cycle again, please?
  • Oh, and my mood swings? Just smile and nod and give me a kiss.
  • You need to deserve a chunky raise without working overtime, cause that time is our time. Make it work.
  • Your baby expects you to know her inside out and answer to all of her needs, bottle feeds and baby baths, all in that short hour between you getting home and her going to bed.
  • No, you’re not allowed to sleep in on weekends. You should be playing with your baby so she knows who you are and so that I can sleep in.
  • You need to remember on your own to take out the trash, the recycling, shovel the driveway and walk the dog.
  • Don’t forget to pick up groceries on the way home.
  • Pay your taxes, your bills and save money for her education. You know, before going to bed. Oh, and save for the car and the house, too.
  • Play with my hair and offer me a massage while we watch the hockey game. And remember not to yell in your daughter’s ears when we score.
  • Bring me flowers and tell me you love me every day, not just on Valentine’s Day and our anniversary.
  • Be okay with my indecisiveness about returning to work when my maternity leave is up. Even though my earnings are normally an important part of our income. Make it work.
  • Oh, and pop the dinner that you brought home in the oven for me.

I realize that I expect a lot from you. And it’s unfair.

If you do less than everything written here, we were taught that that makes you less of a man. That you should be afraid that I won’t love you. That your daughter will forget who you are and think less of you. That you’ll be just a “Dad”. Not a Super Dad. You should be a Super Dad, apparently.

Well, my feminist teachers were wrong, and because of that the odds are stacked against you. You’re an amazing Super Dad, no matter how many of these points you accomplish in one day, in one week. Ever. Screw modern feminism. You don’t need to be Super. Just be you. I’ll take care of the kitchen and the laundry. I’ll make an effort to provide you with a clean and welcoming home when you walk in from work – you just fix the closet door and bathroom lights, please. Hell, I worked at the same office as you – I know what you go through in a day. Go get ’em, Tiger… And be with your baby just as much as you can and you want to – we all know how much you love her, you don’t need to prove it to anyone – she knows you’re her Daddy and we both know you’ll always be there for her. I’ll make sure you get your private one on one time that you love so much.

And I’m still your girlfriend, your wife and your lover. We both deserve that I feel attractive, whether it’s in tight yoga pants or jeans… or PJs… so keep an eye on her for 15 minutes while I go make myself feel a little prettier – we’ll both benefit from it. 😉

Maybe Grandma and Grandpa were on to something. Maybe we don’t need to take it to extremes. Maybe men and women are hardwired for certain roles. And I’m totally okay with that. Just be you. Be happy. So that we can be a family. I’ll go take out the trash, it might just take me some time to get around to it.

Just forgive me if I can’t be Super Mom, and let’s figure this out together.

Oh, and can you scratch the itch on my back?


Join the discussion!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s