It is 4pm and I’m looking for the remote control so I can listen to some music as I write this. It is 4:10pm and I am still looking for the remote. I give up. I think maybe I should enforce a house rule to put the remote back on the TV stand when you are done watching TV. But I don’t want to be that dad. The enforcer dad of things kids will figure out anyway.

It is Father’s Day.

I am all alone at home after going for an eight mile run in 100 degree heat. I with I could say it was a life empowering run full of energy and vigor but in fact I felt heavy and my right hamstring kept threating to cramp from about the 3.5 mile mark onwards. I plodded through it.

I normally prefer to run early in the day before the household gets fully awake but on this Sunday Yang was out earlier than me for the second day of a weekend tennis tournament. She wished me a happy Father’s day and was out the door leaving me with three cranky kids. Yang had offered to have the ayi stay Sunday so I could do whatever it is father’s do on Father’s Day but I told her I’d preferred no ayi. And it is true, the day before when Yang was at the tournament from early in the morning until late at night our house was filled with the ayi, the ayi’s husband (who helps with chores when he’s not sleeping on the couch), and Elisa’s boyfriend’s ayi. I would really just prefer to take care of my own kids sometimes.

The kids and Yang just came through the door with bags in their hands..presents?..no..leftovers from a late lunch. The kids don’t seem to know or care that today is Father’s Day but I know that is mostly my deal. I could just tell them. But it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t matter because it is Father’s Day everyday.

Lydia just walked up to me as I sit typing this, smiled and hugged me for no reason. After the kids cranky early start today they relaxed and were soon busting up laughing over Elisa’s performance of Bieber’s “Baby, Baby, Baby”. Then we were downstairs. Aidan on his skateboard, Lydia on her bike, and Elisa in the kids playground. Me sipping coffee and checking how Tiger was doing at Olympic. It wasn’t his day. But it was mine.

Father’s Day 2012