Happy Cacophonous Father’s Day!

I didn’t quite know what was going to happen. I kept my expectations low, given how well Mother’s Day turned out, and the fact that Evelyn has a cold again. Lately she has been waking up crying 4 or 5 times a night.

Father’s Day this year started at about 6:30 am. It was a full 6 hours earlier than any start time I had been hoping for.

Evelyn cried – wet, hungry, teething, stuffy nose – as far as I know it was one of those things. It was clear that she was wide awake and ready for the day, but her mother had been up with her several times through the night, so I offered to get up with her and let Carolyn sleep in. That lasted 2 minutes. Bridget awoke from the noise and was feeling well rested herself.

Adults I know who have had a cold recently complain that it was very tiring and they had a terrible sore throat. I’m guessing Evelyn felt the same way, since not much could make her happy for longer than a few minutes at a time – less if she wasn’t being carried or held. But it was Father’s Day after all, and that means a special breakfast. So I helped myself to a 2nd bowl of Honeycomb Cereal.

In the midst of the cacophony two things occurred to me: both kids were very cranky; and we needed groceries.

Ah, the sweet, anonymous solitude of a gigantic grocery store. On the drive home I enjoyed my favourite contraband treat – the candy whose name shall not be spoken while the spouse is dieting.

I don’t think I was looking any hotter than I’m usually not looking when I don’t get dolled up to go get groceries. But for some reason women at the grocery store kept checking me out. Not all of them were cougars either. I don’t know what was so special about the fact that it was the afternoon of Father’s Day and I was alone at the supermarket. Then again, the only other man I saw there that day who didn’t have kids with him was wearing a “#1 DAD” t-shirt… To be fair though, I did have diapers in the shopping cart.

Once I got home I found that everyone had gotten over themselves. Evelyn was asleep while Mommy and Bridget were having a snack and watching a humming bird that had stopped by the flowers on our deck. Bridget teetered between quiet fascination, and the natural fear that occurs when you realize “Oh no! The Honey Bird is coming to EAT ME like a MONSTER!”

Fascination won.

I was armed with my Nikon camera and my brave daughter protected herself with a toy broom. For half an hour we sat quietly in the corner of the deck waiting for the humming bird to return.

By “quietly”, of course I mean that I whispered instructions to her about the importance of being still and quiet, then she would clarify loudly: “We have to be quiet or the honey bird won’t come back, that’s right Daddy. I’m being very quiet. Look at me Daddy I’m standing on the chair! Now I’m going to sweep you!”

It seemed prudent to move on.

I had a Father’s Day cup of coffee while Bridget dug in her sandbox. It was much the same as any other cup of coffee, except it was preceded by “yeah Daddy! A Father’s Day coffee! And me and Mommy will bring it to you, and you will like it, ok?”

They did. And so did I.

When Evelyn finally woke up she was as delightful and happy as she had not been the night before.

It was a relaxing afternoon. I watched Discovery Channel. I chopped some firewood. Bridget and I stacked it. Father’s Day cards were read, and phone calls to Grandfathers were made. The weather was warm and sunny after a long stretch of grey, wet days. In spite of this, I did not mow the lawn, and I did not do it with great sense of satisfaction. I just didn’t feel like listening to the roar of our ancient lawnmower as I circled the yard for an hour.

Not on Father’s Day.

The only din you heard from our house that day came from our selves. And after about 2 o’clock or so, it was a happy din.