The Day After Father's Day

Well, I'm feeling like I totally whiffed on Father's Day. I was scheduled to work from 9:45 to 5:45 and I ended up staying till nearly 7 o'clock. When I got home, Bubba Hubby and the kids had cleaned house -- top to bottom. Nobody had eaten, so we decided to go to Las Fuentes, our favorite local Mexican restaurant. At least it would feel like we did SOMETHING for Father's Day... and it meant no effort on my part. So call me a bum, but the food was good and it was late enough the restaurant was not crowded.

The kids quizzed their dad through the entire meal about how to say things in Spanish, especially our youngest. They were surprised when I came up with a couple of words while Dad's mouth was full. Then they got into a rather philosophical debate about whether or not Dad knew ALL the words in Spanish. Our oldest, age 9, held out for, "No, he didn't know everything." He had been unable to supply the translation for the word balcony. He had also whiffed on slide, as in slipper slide. But he did supply them with the translation for to slide, and that was equally impressive to them. None-the-less, the 4-year-old is still pretty sure that "Dad knows everything." That's probably the best present Hubby got for Father's Day.

We also rented a movie last night and stayed up late watching it. It was called Knots and was a kind of interesting story about a married man who meets an attractive woman, pushes her safely off on his best friend, only to find her (the attractive woman) later in bed with his own wife. Not necessarily compelling. I wouldn't necessarily recommend it, but I don't regret the time lost watching it.

All in all, I'm feeling a bit bummed that I have become so horribly lax about things like birthdays, holidays, and taking time to recognize the people I love. We went to Grandma's 85th birthday and I didn't even manage a simple gesture like a card. The FIL, likewise, got nothing for father's day. My own dad, Hubby... I pretty much ignored the occasion all the way around.

Hubby reminded me that there was a story about him and my birthday years ago when we first started living together. He says this with shame like he was horribly negligent, yet I have absolutely no memory of this lack of occasion. Perhaps my apathy is my subconcious way of finally getting back at him.