As I was growing up, my mom was a teacher and so we had both had summers off. My father had started as a teacher but moved on to another profession. He worked over the summers. I’m beginning to understand what that might have been like.
Rhiannon is on her summer break right now. While she isn’t being “lazy” by any means, she is taking advantage of being able to sleep in and lounge around a little bit. The timing of her summer couldn’t have been much better – she’s been home to do work in the house. We are a lot farther along in the unpacking and moving in stages than we would have been without her having the time off.
However, that doesn’t seem to be the greatest consolation some mornings when I am getting up for work and she still has 2 or 3 hours of sleep ahead of her.
And we don’t even have kids yet.
When I was young, I remember waiting most nights for Dad to come home from work so we could play. I was an only child and we lived out of town – there wasn’t a whole lot of walking a block and having other kids to play with all of the time. For baseball or basketball or Frisbee or anything else we played over summer, after supper was time to play.
(Aside: I also remember him wanting time to let his food digest. I didn’t understand that concept then. I do now. I don’t know about this whole aging thing…)
After a day at work, with a kid that got up at least 3 hours later than he did, I’m hard pressed to remember many days when he was ever too tired or too busy to go play. I’m hard pressed to remember too many activities I ever had that he couldn’t make. I’m hard pressed to ever remember a time when I needed him that he wasn’t there for me.
I still call him for advice (and my mom too). I will be calling him years from now. I hope that I can do half as well with my family as he did for his.
It may be a day late (I did call yesterday), but Happy Father’s Day Dad. Thanks for everything.