Summer Dad

It’s hard being a summer dad.  While the rest of your family is in vacation mode, your life stays exactly the same.  Mornings are the worst, waking to a silent house, getting ready like usual while everyone else sleeps in as long as they want.  No goodbye, no out-the-door kisses.  Nights are bad too.  Having slept in, they are ready to party: one more snack, pop in a movie, “why go to bed, we have NOTHING to do tomorrow?!?!?”  Wish I could say the same.

Maybe worse than the mornings or the nights are the calls midday, when I’m still exhausted from the night before (trying to keep up with their vacation pace):  “We’re at the pool, Dad!” “We’re at the movies!”  “We’re going out to lunch, to the zoo, can’t you come?”  No, I can’t.  Because my life has to be like this, year round, so you can have the fun you do.

The sun is an elusive object, observed only indirectly, longingly, feeling somehow even farther than its 93 million miles away from within the confines of my air-conditioned cell…er…office.

I know I’m not the only one.  I know our parents did it too, and without complaint.  But that doesn’t make it any less hard.  I’ve never fully recovered from school summers myself, 3 months off to swim and run around and play, or, when you’re older, to maybe work some, but still mostly have fun and flirt and get crazy.

All work and no play makes Dad a sad fellow.  It’s hard being a summer dad.

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