They’re only separated by five weeks on the calendar, but ask any parent and they’ll tell you that Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are worlds apart. Sure, there are the obvious spending discrepancies; last year, Americans spent an average of $144 on Mother’s Day, but just a fraction of that — $82 — a month later for Father’s Day. But what dads may lack in expensive gifts they more than make up for in the tenor of the day itself.
It’s the cold truth: while many of the gifts given on Mother’s Day often require us moms to put in more work (think the gift of any kitchen appliance, for example), Father’s Day gifts are an exercise in relaxation. Take the gifts I (and by “I,” I really mean my kids) have bestowed on the father of my children over the past few years: a round of golf at his favorite local course; a gift certificate to his favorite restaurant; and, perhaps his favorite gift, tickets to watch his favorite professional sports team in person. None of these gifts required extra work, like the new pots and pans I once received; rather, they gave him an excuse to get out of the house and spend some time with his buddies, away from the children whose very existence make him a father in the first place!
But the differences between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day go beyond the presents. For more insight on what Father’s Day is really like — and how it compares to the realities of Mother’s Day
9:15 a.m.: The Wake-Up Call
On Mother’s Day, my husband and kids woke me up at 6:45 a.m. with breakfast in bed. It was a nice thought, but I normally get up at 6:45 a.m. every morning; a later wake-up call would have been far preferable.
Fast-forward five weeks to Father’s Day, and my husband’s nonexistent wake-up call. Instead of waking him up at the crack of dawn with the first meal of the day (served by children who are eager to jump into mom and dad’s bed at any moment), my kids actually encouraged me to let daddy sleep “just a little bit longer.”
Why the discrepancy?
“You just don’t make it clear that you want to sleep in,” my husband insists.
I respectfully disagree; I’m constantly complaining that I’m exhausted and sleep-deprived.
“That’s not the same thing,” he tells me. “You never ask to sleep in, even on days when you should, so I guess I don’t think it’s a priority for you.”
The lesson here? Complaining to a man is like complaining to a wall; if you really want something to happen, you have to specifically ask for it.
12 p.m.: Time in Front of the Tube
The standard Mother’s Day routine at our house usually involves a family outing — maybe a picnic at the local park or a trip to the zoo. Father’s Day, on the other hand, is a different story.
As soon as we get back from church on Father’s Day, my husband plunks himself in front of the TV. I’m not sure if it’s pure coincidence or the misogynistic scheduling of the TV powers-that-be, but Father’s Day weekend just happens to be — in my husband’s opinion — one of the greatest sports weekends of the entire calendar year. My husband spends his Father’s Day afternoon flipping between golf (the U.S. Open final round is always on this day), baseball (usually a great interleague match-up), and basketball (the NBA Finals, typically).
I asked my husband why he chooses to spend his Father’s Day this way, which involves minimal interaction with his kids.
“Every other weekend of the year, we’re ferrying the kids to and from birthday parties, dance recitals, family outings,” he explained. “This is my day, and I choose to use it to rest.”
Then he makes some haughty scriptural reference to Genesis and God ordering the people to rest on the seventh day. Sure, honey, sure.
5 p.m.: A Home-Cooked Meal
When I ask my husband what he wants to eat for Father’s Day dinner, he always gives me the same answer: “Whatever’s easiest for you, honey.”
But being a woman, I can’t let it go, and press him for a follow-up. Pasta? Seafood? Ethnic cuisine?
“Just a good, home-cooked meal is all I want tonight,” he’ll reply.
You see, men don’t understand the dichotomy between “whatever’s easiest” for their wife and a request for a “home-cooked meal.” They are polar opposites, two sides of the coin, total extremes.
On Mother’s Day, my husband always takes me out to dinner — with the kids in tow, of course — because he understands that it’s what’s easiest for him; I always agree, because it means I don’t find myself struggling to keep the kids out of the kitchen while my husband attempts to cook. It’s a win-win. But on Father’s Day, I end up cooking and caring for the kids all at once — yes, I’m complaining, because I work a 40-hour week, too, and want to get in a little rest on my weekends as well — while Bob Costas drones on about some overpaid athlete hitting or not hitting the big drive/shot/pitch.
From WWW.Parentsociety.com/ Posted by Mags
The standard Mother’s Day routine at our house usually involves a family outing — maybe a picnic at the local park or a trip to the zoo. Father’s Day, on the other hand, is a different story.
As soon as we get back from church on Father’s Day, my husband plunks himself in front of the TV. I’m not sure if it’s pure coincidence or the misogynistic scheduling of the TV powers-that-be, but Father’s Day weekend just happens to be — in my husband’s opinion — one of the greatest sports weekends of the entire calendar year. My husband spends his Father’s Day afternoon flipping between golf (the U.S. Open final round is always on this day), baseball (usually a great interleague match-up), and basketball (the NBA Finals, typically).
I asked my husband why he chooses to spend his Father’s Day this way, which involves minimal interaction with his kids.
“Every other weekend of the year, we’re ferrying the kids to and from birthday parties, dance recitals, family outings,” he explained. “This is my day, and I choose to use it to rest.”
Then he makes some haughty scriptural reference to Genesis and God ordering the people to rest on the seventh day. Sure, honey, sure.
5 p.m.: A Home-Cooked Meal
When I ask my husband what he wants to eat for Father’s Day dinner, he always gives me the same answer: “Whatever’s easiest for you, honey.”
But being a woman, I can’t let it go, and press him for a follow-up. Pasta? Seafood? Ethnic cuisine?
“Just a good, home-cooked meal is all I want tonight,” he’ll reply.
You see, men don’t understand the dichotomy between “whatever’s easiest” for their wife and a request for a “home-cooked meal.” They are polar opposites, two sides of the coin, total extremes.
On Mother’s Day, my husband always takes me out to dinner — with the kids in tow, of course — because he understands that it’s what’s easiest for him; I always agree, because it means I don’t find myself struggling to keep the kids out of the kitchen while my husband attempts to cook. It’s a win-win. But on Father’s Day, I end up cooking and caring for the kids all at once — yes, I’m complaining, because I work a 40-hour week, too, and want to get in a little rest on my weekends as well — while Bob Costas drones on about some overpaid athlete hitting or not hitting the big drive/shot/pitch.
From WWW.Parentsociety.com/ Posted by Mags
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