Wish Me a Happy Father’s Day

As a single parent, these extra holidays that single out one parent over the other seem unfair. I mean, I have to fulfill all the parenting. So I should get all the holidays. Wish me a happy Father’s Day instead. It’s only fair.

Conditioned for disappointment

I no longer make a big deal of any holiday. I have been conditioned to expect nothing and lowered my expectations after a lifetime of disappointment and letdowns. On one particular Mother’s Day, early into the toxic marriage, and at the insistence of the ex, I made reservations for a mani-pedi at a salon. It was going to be a day of relaxation for me, he was going to watch the kids and I was going to get some me time.

Let’s say the appointment was at noon. He was supposed to be home, but when I woke up he was not. I don’t know where he went, but I tried calling his cell. He didn’t answer. I sent him a text and waited. He said he would be back soon, but got held up “running errands”. So I called the salon and rescheduled for an appointment at 3 to buy myself time. Hours passed, and finally, around 2 pm I determined that he wasn’t coming home and I wasn’t going to get my time out.

I spent the day pissed off at home all dressed up, but still with the hope that he might be showing up at any moment, and therefore never got comfortable and settled into doing anything else. I recall calling the salon and canceling and when they asked if I wanted to reschedule for another day I said no, what was the point?

Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Take that example, and copy/paste it over every other day of celebration — birthdays, anniversaries, etc. It’s any wonder we ever did anything. If I didn’t instigate my own acknowledgments, I wasn’t getting anything. And I am not exaggerating for effect. But you best believe I ran myself ragged making sure we got his days right. His birthdays, Father’s Day, and any other fucking holiday where he needed to be acknowledged I tried to do it right.

I think some terminally optimistic sadistic part of me thought I could lead that bastard by example. Yeah right.

My childhood wasn’t any better, or different. When I was little and I was celebrating Mother’s Day for my single mother, I made some crafts at school for the event. You know elementary school, they have you make stupid shit for your parents because it’s cute — or just a really good way to kill time in the classroom. Being a book lover at an early age, I made a little illustrated book. I cut the paper, illustrated the pages, and wrote little notes of appreciation on each page, I was so proud of my little present. I went home excited to give it to my mother.

Thinking back on the incident, she had probably been drinking, wallowing in her despair at being a single mother, and feeling sorry for herself, I guess. Who knows what was going through her head? I don’t know what she was expecting from an 8-year-old, but I gave her the little book.

Spoiler Alert… It all sucks

Spoiler alert: That evening, I found my gift to her in the trash. I remember being crushed. I don’t remember if I said anything to her, but she probably gave me some bullshit excuse. That was the last time I made her anything.

I may not have taken Mother’s Day off work, but you bet your ass I took Father’s Day off. If for no other reason than to fuck the patriarchy and celebrate me. It’s probably the trauma but why does Mother’s Day feel fake af? All the restaurants were packed on my way home from work. Almost like the only day of rest a woman is going to get outside of the kitchen is going to be this insignificant weekend in May. That’s what her family is going to do for her, save her the trouble of making a meal for them on one single day. Gee, thanks!

I’m over it

Fuck that misogynist bullshit.

So here I am. Many decades after all these episodes and nothing has changed. I still hate holidays (except Halloween) and I am just bitter enough to hate everyone else who gets all worked up over these idiot Hallmark holidays.