Every Day, Our Day

It’s Father’s Day. First celebrated in Spokane Washington in 1910 by the daughter of a Civil War Veteran who raised six children alone. It then faded away until the 60s. That’s the short history. It took a Presidential Proclamation to finally get Father’s Day to be recognized as a ‘real’ holiday. Thanks to Johnson. Then Nixon made it official.

Some would say we deserve a special day. Some would argue otherwise. That, however, is the fractious nature of humanity and to be largely ignored. Whether you believe it to be over-commercialized (it is), under-observed (it is), or just another day (it’s that too) is irrelevant to most of us,

For Father’s (capitalized this entire post because, per the title it is our day) our days don’t come once a year. For us every day is Father’s Day. And we earned it.

It is earned in a thousand sleepless nights when our children our sick. It’s earned in a million tired smiles when we walk through the door after a long day at work to be greeted by a turbocharged miniature version of ourselves. It’s earned in hospital waiting rooms during delivery and sicknesses and falls and scrapes. It’s earned in sitting through school plays and sporting events, and celebrating them stumbling their way through the world and finding their love for new activities. It’s earned through night time feedings and morning diaper changes. Bath times and forced tooth brushings.

It’s earned through scrounging sometimes to pay bills, sacrificing so that they might have milk and formula while we eat leftovers and junk. It’s earned through a billion hours of children’s TV and singalongs that worm their way into your brain and drive you to the brink of insanity. It’s a thousand Lego’s trod upon and skateboards and Barbie cars tripped over in the dead of night. It’s earned debating whether the light bill or the car payment is more important. It’s earned carrying them the last two miles because they’re exhausted and the journey out was a lot more fun than the journey back home.

It’s earned feeding puppies and kittens they had to have but forget to feed as soon as their attention spans waver. It’s earned in ‘I want chicken nuggets’ but really I wanted anything but. It’s earned in night time stories of wonder and the daily lessons about life. It’s earned in sleepy heads on our shoulders and tears and snot on our shirts. It’s earned in the loss of our free time and the invasions of our privacy. The 3 am showers because that’s when we could slip it in. It’s earned in eating three hours after you were hungry because they had to be attended to first. It’s earned in being the worrier on vacation while everyone else is frolicking carefree.

It’s earned a million different ways in a billion different moments.

And today will be some cards, some will get gifts, many will get nothing except the dawn of another day being Dad.

And while I appreciate Nixon’s commitment in getting this day on the calendar. and I do think Father’s deserve a day of recognition. I think most of us already know in our hearts we’re a special group.

Despite all the trials, the tribulations, the worry and strain, the tears and fears, the sleepless nights and worried days we are the lucky ones. And while we have earned, and continue to earn, minute by minute, day by day the title of Father, simultaneously we are gifted the joys of being the same.

And sure, all those things we do to earn the title weigh on us and drive us mad sometimes. They age us, they grey our hair and churn our stomachs, they push us to silent tears in a dark room enveloped with the fears of our own uncertainties at times. But they also serve to push us to our feet, square our shoulders and enter the fray yet again in selflessness for those in our care.

So with all due respect, Mr. Nixon, we appreciate the notation on the calendar, we do. Today will be cards and cookouts, gifts and platitudes, Facebook posts and text messages and to be sure they’re all great. Grown children will call and wish their dad’s a great day. And in twenty four short hours this one will pass. Younger ones will cruise blissfully through it without even realizing what it is. That’s ok. Perception is the key, gentlemen.

Because we’re fathers every day. And though we shoulder all the burdens that entails, quietly and constantly, we’re rewarded in much the same way. The pitter patter of little feet, the babbling of a happy child, the tinkling of laughter during the morning cartoons. Those are the daily gifts we receive. We’re rewarded in first touchdowns, and first plays, the first toes in the water at the lake and sunburned cheeks on the beach. We’re rewarded with warm little snuggles at the end of a long, hard day. We’re rewarded with little legs clamped round our necks as we carry them through the day. First steps. First cars. College. Marriage. Career. On and on the cycle continues.

Because that’s what Fatherhood is. It’s trying and tiring and tremendously difficult and we earn the title every day. In the balance, we’re gifted every day as well.

And sitting here thinking about my children grown and watching over the ones that haven’t, my God, are we gifted indeed.