What If I Was Competing in the International Extreme Ironing Tournament? Would That Have Made It Okay?

extreme-ironing

Quick pop quiz. Your 10-year old daughter qualifies for Nationals in her chosen sport, let’s say Chess Boxing.  (Yes, that’s really a sport.)  And she has to travel to another state to compete.  Do you let her go?

Well, of course.  She’s been preparing for this Chess Boxing tournament for three years.  Duh.

Oh wait.  Second question.  Do you go with her, even though there will be four other adults accompanying the team of 6 girl, uh, Chess Boxers?

Trick question.

Are you her father or her mother?

This is important.  Think carefully.

Wrong.

I don’t care what you answered.  You’re wrong.  Especially if you’re her mother.  Because whatever mothers do, they are wrong.  According to the experts – other mothers.

If you are her mother, for example, and you have an important professional conference to attend that you’ve been trying to get financing for the last 24 months and it happens to overlap the Chess Boxing Extravaganza and your husband volunteers to accompany your daughter so she does not have to travel on her own with 5 other girls and 4 adults, and you can then participate in the conference for which you paid a nonrefundable registration fee, then you are, apparently, someone “who hates kids.”

Now, if you are her father, and you opted to go with your potential Chess Boxing Champion, and are stuck on a trip with 6 girls between the ages of 10 and 12, and four women, for 5 very long days, then it takes you about 5 minutes into the trip to realize you are also very wrong.  Fortunately, you are the only one who realizes this fact, and the rest of the population on this planet canonizes you and declares you the “Best, Most Patient Man to Walk the Earth Since Gandhi Passed.”  When you get home, there is a ticker-tape parade in your honor and a National Holiday is named after you – “The Man Who Went With His Daughter to Her Competition Because Her Mother Was Too Selfish Day.”

Of course, you could have each made different decisions, resulting in the mother “doing her duty” and resenting that she will not have another opportunity to attend the conference for at least 4 more years, and the father going about his daily life while attempting to console your bulldog, Wonderbutt, for the five days of your absence.

But I guarantee that no one will crown the mom to be “Best, Most Patient Woman to Walk the Earth Since Mother Teresa.”

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is:

A.) Don’t get your daughter involved in Chess Boxing; Giant Pumpkin Kayaking is much safer

2.) I swear I don’t hate kids,

8.) I love my husband, and

5.) Congratulations to the Same-Sex Marriage Proponents in the USA on today’s victories, maybe now we can

D.) Work on Same Expectations for Parents No Matter What Your Gender and

III.) Cutting Moms Some Slack.  Or slacks.  But don’t make her iron them.

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Posted on June 26, 2013, in Children, Family, Humor, Parenting, Politics, Relationships, Work and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 13 Comments.

  1. There’s a spare bed in Sydney if you need some time out… (and then you’d be too damn far away from anyone, including your mother, to hear all the judgment)

  2. Until the dad figures out how to slick back the chess boxer’s hair with gelatin, or whatever, he gets NO credit for just going along for the ride.

  3. as usual, brilliant. second rule of mom’s club, “you are never right.” (first rule: there is no mom’s club.) I hope all of the whatimeant2say family comes back home in one piece, unscathed, and winners. 😀

  4. Don’t get me started. In my next life, I want to come back as “the husband” instead of “the wife”. But with my luck, by that time the gender-equality pendulum will have swung in the opposite direction…

  5. Actually, Mom and Dad should get a joint award for making everything end as well as it possibly could have.

    It would make up for some of the pain of WB eating the entire house while they left it empty…

  6. No matter what you do, if you are the mother you are totally and completely wrong at all time. Make you wonder why we keep trying.

    On a totally different, completely random note, can you tell me who did your concrete floors? This is shannon (cyberbones) your blog-stalker from Malawi. I I just bought a house in SA and my *%#!ing tile has started popping up before we have even gotten any furniture in the house. GAH!!!! I am scrambling for a solution, pronto. Monica will vouch that I am not a crazy woman. Wait Ms M has blue hair and will probably tell you I am crazy as a loon since i live in Africa, have 4 boys, and really want to kidnap Wonderbutt (looove bulldogs!!!!) but I really do have a huge floor issue, she has seen it first hand and reported all the grizzly details to me. Thanks!

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