I was in the midst of another all-night reading fest. My last nosedive into Chapter Twelve of the Book, “What Every Mother Desires” signaled a need to end my crash-parenting course for my teenage girls. Besides, my nose demanded recuperation and an ice pack.
I tried desperately to stay awake for the last chapter, but my eyes had a different agenda. They were fluttering with the same rapid speed of the neighborhood wives enroute to a Wal Mart price-slashing event. Maybe the next time they go, I’ll join them to see what kind of fun I’ve been missing. Yippee!
As I read, I felt overwhelmed with the amount of information I was ingesting. Do this…don’t do that. Who are these experts anyway? I closed my book and was proud of my sincere efforts to do my best at parenting. I give new meaning to the title “Mom.” You see, I’m missing a few pertinent parts for reproduction as well as traits necessary for instinctive mothering. Yep. I’m a dad. I’m also spouse challenged.
Now, since I’m male, I can’t say I relate to all those inbred desires that moms have…hence, the reason for my Evelyn Wood impersonation while reading my way to perfect parenting. I’ve since discovered there is no such thing. Nor, do the twins make it easy for me to achieve that goal. Defeated is how I feel when I experience the tail end of their wicked chuckles.
On a bad day, I feel better when I utter the words, “This too shall pass.” Well, not really. It’s a little white lie, especially when my day includes daily child rearing with two perfect angels in the making. Can’t you see their wings sprouting?
However, sometimes motherhood—well, fatherhood in my case, is everything it’s cracked up to be and the perfect day ensues. The girls remember to wipe the oozing crud from their feet, they share their favorite shampoo without a complaint and there are no screaming matches over the four televisions in the house. When they also clean up their rooms, I swear I feel the house shake as strong as an 8.0 on the Richter scale. Just goes to show you that a freak of nature can happen unexpectedly, anywhere…even in the home of twin teenage girls on the east coast.
When the day’s not perfect, why do they fight over televisions when there are four to choose from? When they finally realize each one of their eyes are fortunate enough to call dibs on a separate t.v., I’ll be too old to focus on Brady Bunch reruns.
Much to my chagrin, that perfect day has only happened twice—both times, in a dream. Last night was the most recent recurrence. I basked in the beauty of the experience. However, in desperation, I searched for the calculator. The fact that fatherhood and motherhood were introduced to me almost simultaneously, what are the odds I’ll experience that day of perfection one more time before they enter college, even if in slumber? Where’s a mathematician when I need one?
As they continue to embark on their teenage journey, I’m storing up on extra-strength pain relievers and have installed a Hepa filter in the house. Does anyone know if they work to filter out noise pollution from the screaming tantrums displayed during a bad hair day? I can only hope they choose different days to experience that inevitable female encounter.
Despite trials and challenges, every parent desires special things for their children. I’m no different. One of the desires of my heart is spiritual in nature. I hope to instill wise and Godly advice as they grow into spiritually mature young women.
As I read my latest parenting book, my eyes fluttered again with exhaustion. No more reading tonight. I wonder if next time I should reach for a book authored by a dad. Perhaps I’ll get a better understanding on how to approach each challenge that comes my way.
Well, what do you know? The type of reading I’ve been looking for has been on my shelf all along. I’d better get started. Those sixty-six books are going to take some time to read. And, the author is some Father to model after.
Now that my parental desire has been revealed, I have two last questions pertaining to my inbred male desires.
Which television should I watch and where’s my remote?
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