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Father's Day Part II: Hijacking Father's Day

Now that it’s Thursday, I can say it’s been an interesting week. I had a great weekend that included going to see Iron Man for the second time with someone other than my wife and kids, hogging out at the Big Apple Barbecue Festival at Madison Square Park, being caught on camera phone wearing a pig-head crown at this same festival and unbeknownst to me being immediately uploaded to Facebook, going back to that same festival the next day with the family and enjoying the wife and kids despite the 98 degree heat, hanging out with the wife on a Monday night just off the Hudson River at a loft party hosted by Fuse TV with DJ Jazzy Jeff spinning on the wheels of steel, coordinating my parents’ visit to NYC, arguing with my wife in front of my apartment about my parents’ visit (more on this later), walking back inside after our argument and seeing that the stupid cat that lives with us took a shit in my tub (yes…I said s@#$…for emphasis and that's exactly what it was), dealing with a whole lot of insomnia (apparently, I'm not the only one), and watching in astonishment and slight fear as the temperature dropped from about 100 to 75 degrees with the onslaught of a late night storm that lit up the sky with lightning and pushed end-of-the-world-sounding winds howling through all the rooms of my apartment. I have no fear of the rain, but tornado winds are something else entirely.

I’m happy to see that several people voted on the pre-Father’s Day poll. Surprisingly, a whopping 72 point whatever percent of you said a man does have a right to plan his own day, while 27 percent of you said he didn’t. All of the comments I received, no matter the position were all very positive. Thank you, readers, for taking me seriously. Many of you want to know what my ideal Father’s Day would be. My ideal anything would involve my being megarich and having superpowers and since currently, neither is the case, I can only express what I’d like to accomplish this Sunday on the Day for Dads.

If I had had my original way I was going to have the gentleman who shot my wedding come up the Saturday before the day to photograph my son and I getting groomed at BBraxton’s in Harlem --- I’d get a shave and a manicure, and he’d get a nice haircut. Another part of the shoot would involve Ross (the photographer) shooting my wife and daughter getting ready to meet up with the two of us at some cliché, fancy soul food restaurant for a final, interactive family photo shoot. When I shared my idea with my loving wife she hastily informed me that we don’t have the money for that even though I was planning to pay for the whole thing. The more I mentioned it the more she resisted the idea. Then my own frugal nature kicked in and I started doing the math, airfare and hotel for the photographer, plus the shoot. After a day or so of number crunching, I decided I didn’t want to go this route.

My original plan was out the window. Then came Plan B.

If I had had my Plan B way, I was going to get the family up early on Sunday morning, go to a local church that often reminds me of the church scene in Blues Brothers. Then I’d get my shave and we’d all have dinner at Peter Luger’s in Brooklyn, by far the best porterhouse joint on the planet Earth. Again my wife slammed the idea.

She asked, “How are you gonna take Father’s Day away from me? You’re gonna take the baby to a steakhouse? What's she gonna eat?”

That was a good point. I hadn't thought that part through completely. I looked at her dumbfounded. She continued…

“I let you plan Mother’s Day even though you didn’t do anything for me or get me the bag I asked for.” (I’ve heard this line everyday since Mother’s Day. I thought I did do something nice…my son and I made breakfast and I barbecued with her stepdad for dinner. The bag part: we were in talks about how much it should cost when negotiations broke down. She also couldn’t make up her mind as to what she actually wanted. But to hear her tell it, I just got up, said “Happy Mother’s Day,” and kept it moving.)

“You can’t hijack Father’s Day?”

“Huh?” I asked, now completely bewildered.

“You can’t decide you’re going to do something for yourself and go ahead and make plans. What if I already made plans?”

Why would I leave it up to a woman who’s told me everyday since Mother’s Day that she’s going to make me pay for not giving her the Mother’s Day she deserved? I’m not quoting her exactly, but this is her sentiment. Besides, it’s been a very long time since I’ve done anything nice for myself, so why not do so on my day? But I have been threatened and harassed ever since to not make plans…otherwise I’ll regret it.

Ironically, none of this even matters because what neither of us knew at the time was that the business trip she was taking this week actually lasted through Sunday. That’s right, Father’s Day. So my wife left Wednesday morning at 6 a.m. and will not arrive back to NYC until Sunday afternoon.

Plan B and any other plans I might have tried to cook up have been completely shot to hell. So my question to her has been, “What difference does it make what I do? You’re not even going to be here!”

She insists she will be home in time, but I don’t trust airlines or airports. Now, I am relegated to simply sitting and waiting with the kids to see what she has planned. Yes, it has become more than obvious that she has made plans, but I don’t know when or how she intends to hatch them from a plane, or the company car that’s picking her up from the airport so late in the day. It isn’t that I don't trust my wife, I don’t trust her schedule. I have to add that my father-in-law took my son to get his haircut, so that plan was killed also.

So in the end, who’s hijacking Father’s Day, me or her? I guess I’ll have to find out and let you know.

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