Sunday, April 19, 2009

The Weekend Dad

tra⋅di⋅tion –noun
1. a long-established or inherited way of thinking or acting
2. a customary or characteristic method or manner
I went to the local diner this morning for breakfast. Usually I enter to find like-minded individuals seeking a simple greasy breakfast to soak up the previous evenings beverages. This morning however I was three to four hours earlier then the regular afternoon brunch crowd, so upon entering I found a whole new group of individuals sitting in the cracked vinyl booths and keeping vigil on the old time chrome stools that surround the Formica counter. Early Sunday morning is apparently the time for the Weekend Dad to take his kids to breakfast.

Seeing all these groups of fathers with their younger children took me back to my weekends growing up. The weekend Dad is a predicable creature. He follows a similar pattern that has somehow been passed down through generations of weekend Dads. The Weekend Dad can be found taking his young children to a greasy spoon diner for breakfast, followed by a trip to a barbershop and maybe a stop over at the ice-cream shop before it is time to go back to weekday Mom’s house. There must be some club where the rules are discussed, guidelines are outlined and agendas are drawn up.

God forbid I ever become a Weekend Dad, (or a Dad for that matter) but if I ever do I am breaking the mould. I’m setting up some new routines. Although when I think of my Dad the memories that first come to mind are the weekend breakfasts, getting my haircut alongside him and going for an ice cream on a Sunday afternoon. In fact many years later, at the age of three decades, I still enjoy doing those things with my Dad… so maybe the traditions should remain the same after all.

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cindy adoms said...

I had a weekend dad also. Actually, I suppose I had a weekend stepmother (complete with her own little monster - yuck), as my father worked most weekends. I also had a weekday lunch hour ex-step father for awhile. I'll never be able to consume Denny's chicken noodle soup without remebering those occasional, rushed maybe 45 minutes of small talk and him pretending he wasn't dying to ask me how my mother was doing - did she miss him at all. I wonder: do you, do any, do all children with a weekend parent have that same knot in your stomach at drop off / pick up time?

I didn't much care for many weekends in my childhood. Perhaps that explains many weekends in my "adulthood" (I use the word very loosely) - attempting to make for lost time?

So I had a question for you, however, I believe you've answered already; not only directly, also by posting your blog. I have been having a rough time trying to sidestep ghosts that continually creep into my head and render me hopeless / helpless. Following some recent wise advice of staying busy and never giving up, I've delved into this blogging world as one distraction. At times, out of the blue, I have gotten completely smacked in the face with an old forgotten painful memory while reading about someone else's experience. It froze me at first. I didn't know how to deal with this new ... I don't what ...avenue? that my ghosts are using to reach me. I still don't know exactly how, but I do know that you're right: it's thereputic knowing you're not all alone. I'm still in tears right now, but it's not the same deep deep pain as I've had when my ghosts and I are playing hide-and-seek and I'm all aone when they find and "boo" me. Thank you for putting yourself ( or at least partially) out there. You have absolutely no idea how much relief you have brought to at least this one person - or maybe you do. Regardless, thank you.

Now for my less insane comments:
How have the shorter locks been working out for you? If / when you become a dad, from what I've read of you, I sincerely doubt you'd ever be a weekend dad. Your family would probably be the envy of many weekday moms. Perhaps you could be a weekend dad but not "the weekend dad", do you kind of know what I mean? I understand you're a chameleon, but I don't beleive you fit into a mould, truely.

Chasing Distractions said...

Hey cindy thanks for the comment and compliments - have you started your blog yet? I would very much enjoy reading it, so please feel free to include your URL with your name.

As for the new locks - it was more of a trim really, but if anything it does feel better. To give you an idea, only one person noticed, everyone else said, "I thought you were going to get a haircut?"

Take care, and as my Papa is known to say, "Keep smilin'"

Bambi Blue said...

I always sit at that barstool right by the door. I'm all about the french toast and sausage covered in maple syrup.

Great place.

*sigh* I suppose I'll have to start looking for organic french toast. Heh.

cindy adoms said...

Hey Chasing Distractions,
No, I haven't started on my blog yet. What's an URL? Never mind, I know how to type and read, so I can look it up. Finding your blog has indeed opened my eyes, and it does seem like a great distraction and also a source of comfort. Unfortunately, my life is BORING! And talk about broke...I just had my power reconnected. Maybe I could muse about the trials and tribulations of being an expat living in a "third" world country. As always, thanks for being out there. Incidentally, if my memory serves me correctly, I was looking up the difference between "certainly" and "surely" and that is how I came to find your blog. It's been awhile since I've been around English speakers, and my previously impressive grasp of the language has become a bit loose. Your Papa does sound like a wise man. "Don't let the turkeys get you down," was my father's saying although he didn't use the word turkey. He also taught me to never sit with your back towards the door...always toward the wall which allowed most visibilty of the rest of the room, especially the entrance. Weird?

Chasing Distractions said...

Hay Bambi,

Nothing wrong with organic french toast, sausage and maple syrup. Try Fraser Cafe, they might be able to help you satisfy your cravings.

Chasing Distractions said...

Hey Cindy,

If you haven't found it yet an URL is a Uniform Resource Locator. I'm sure that doesn't mean much - so basically it's your web address. Mine =

I never would have guessed that English was not your first language - it seems very good to me.

BTW I tend to sit the same way in a room - I never feel comfortable with my back to everyone.

cindy adoms said...

C.D., Thanks for the compliment, however, English is my native tongue (doesn't sound so good now, I'm afraid). I just haven't been around others that speak English as a primary language for a LONG time. Also, one too many of my weekends (and weeks for that matter) have been spent having too good of a time (I thought at the time), which has resulted in a rusty brain. My advice to all: everything in moderation.

I'm still investigating this whole blogging phenomena. I'm still on dial up - we just got the option of high speed in my area - and almost got in a tussle with someone the other night when they said they were going to "poke" one of my friends (who is married). Sorry to keep pestering you with these long, drawn out comments. Will try to stop that!