I’ve got two dads. And they are awesome.
Growing up my dads taught me a lot of things: how to ride a bike, race a snowmobile, catch a salmon, pitch a tent, pull a finger, and pop a wheely.
They taught me that yellow means go faster, and that red—like the kind Mom sees when you’re 15 and you back her car into your teachers in the Safeway parking lot, causing $1500 worth of damage—means stop, effing stop.
My dads taught me that every dude is a scumbag who only wants in your pants. And while I agree that dudes are pigs (generally speaking), not once did I date a guy who wanted to wear my jeans.
… This might be because I’m so small—the only dude I’ve ever dated who could fit my Old Navy bootcuts was CFTP. And he’s gay, so he’s got plenty of his own pants. And unlike mine, they are nice and pressed and everything … But I digress.
Growing up, my dads always told me I could be anything I wanted to be.
… Except when I was 16 and said I hated boys and wanted to become a nun. Popi said I couldn’t be a nun, mostly because we aren’t Catholic.
And I was like g-damn it.
But whatever.
As I get older, I see that being a father is not just something that my dads do. It’s something that my coworkers, my neighbors and my even my best friends have started doing.
And while I do not plan on becoming a father any time soon—partly because I’m 12, and mostly because I don’t have the equipment and/or requisite body hair—I want to tell all the dads of the haus, I appreciate you.
Seriously, being a dad probably sucks sometimes. Especially when your five-year-old daughter sticks a bean up her nose and it ferments. And you have to take her kicking and screaming to the ER. And when you get home, the extraction is kept in a jar on the kitchen table for said daughter’s amusement.
Yeah, I wouldn’t know how lame that’d be.
But my dad would.
Much love to Popi and SKD, Dave, Rick, Matt, Lance, Mister Misadventure, and all the other daddies of the haus. You rock.
You’re fired. j/k.
More at http://www.marriedtothesea.com
Happy F-day!
Growing up I never appreciated my dad, now I do and I am trying to show that. Recently with the event in my life my dad helped me get through it. Mostly because the event happened the day the rest of my support group (family) went to scotland for 3 weeks. But I took from him how not to handle said event, when his happened he did the absolute wrong things. And he realized it later and helped give me advice to not get stuck in a rut!
Dad’s are great, specially when you start realizing that all along everything they did helped make you the man you are today!
You will be a great father someday, I know it!
And I dont think chest hair is a requirement!
Manuel—that site wins. As does Deez Nutz
DaReaVeRoFBiTs—it seems like a lot of boys don’t get along with their dads and I’m glad his eff ups could help you avoid the same pitfalls. And yeah, I def agree, my dads totally made me the girl I am today—I’m quite sure I wouldn’t find farts so funny had I not been victim to my dads’ on so many occasions
!
Hanni, Thanks for the well wishes. One day we will have to get together.
How long was the bean in the nose that it got around to fermenting?
You forgot to mention the scrotum pole the guys you and your sister dated were invariable asked if they noticed in the yard as they drove up to the house. Talk about bug-eyed! Without a doubt the thought of such a thing gave them ALL pause to cringe at the very graphic image in their minds. The ice in my eyes as they wondered drove home the message. Once that was out of the way we could buddy up. Didn’t seem like too many wanted to get close though. First images are hard to get past. But I love my girls and since I couldn’t go with them on their dates I got creative and attached a part of me to their dates’ survival mechanisms.
You are lucky to have two wonderful fathers whom you love and who love you, some people go through life never knowing such love exists! Yay for fathers (a day later!)