By: Laurenne Sala
I think it’s only fair that you get a big fat celebratory hug today, too. You may have a vagina and you may not possess the other usual characteristics of the stereotypical dad, but in many ways you’ve been a better dad than many.
You bought me a skateboard and a wiffle ball and made sure I got a well-rounded childhood experience. I am not sure if that’s because you were playing a dad role or because you’re a tomboy yourself. But I liked it. Barbie was too pink for me, and she was really only good for planning sexy trysts with Ken.
You barbecued, fixed the house, and stained the deck yourself. In a traditional family, the dad would have done that stuff. In my family, I learned that a woman can do just about anything with her hands. Now, one of my most cherished possessions is my cordless power drill. Because of you, I am proud to NOT be one of those girls who needs to call a boy to help. Thank. Goodness.
You told me dirty jokes and taught me that farts are funny. That’s usually a dad’s job, but you did it really well. When you smirked and told me the real words to The Man from Nantucket my junior high popularity soared. Thanks for that. ‘Whose dick was so long he could suck it!’ Hahahaha.
You taught me all about the male psyche. When I was “dating” in sixth grade, you told me just what those little bastards were thinking. You weren’t a man but you sure knew that Caleb was flirting by calling me ugly. You were so smart. (Kinda wish you would have told me not to go see Ferngully the Last Rainforest with him, though. Horrible first date. [Side note: dating has not changed much since 6th grade].)
You came to every game or performance or big deal. And you drove me everywhere I needed to go. If there had been a dad around, you guys might have been able to rotate. But, nope. Your presence was for two, and that was enough.
I don’t think you deserve recognition on Father’s Day just because you performed the tasks of a “normal” dad. I think you deserve recognition because you performed every task. All by yourself. That’s hard. You’ve been the good guy and the bad guy. You’ve planned every birthday party, and you’ve cried enough for two every time we’ve said goodbye at an airport. You’ve done it all, and that should be rewarded.
Maybe you don’t deserve a tie or a mug because, really, who does? But you deserve recognition and thanks and love.
Happy Father’s Day, Mommy!
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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