Hi, I’m Gayle … don’t tell the old ball and chain, but I’ve decided to commandeer his humor column while he’s in the other room doing some “critical” research on the Rangers’ middle relief pitching on ESPN.com. Oh, wait … I hear machine-gun fire. He’s probably making his way behind enemy lines on Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 on the Xbox, so I definitely have time. He loves video games, but unlike the 12-year-olds on our block, he doesn’t spend 20 hours a day playing them so he’s not, well … that great at them.
Since Rudy started writing his MANifesto each month, I’ve learned that DallasChild magazine is more widely read than Us Weekly. I’ve got friends coming out of the woodwork asking if that’s my husband at the helm of these columns. For the most part, their reviews are very positive, but there was that one column pitting stay-at-home moms vs working moms—I chose to unplug the phone and stay off Facebook that month.
This month being June and with Father’s Day coming up, I thought I’d turn the spotlight on my husband and others like him—ordinary guys who earn the title “Dad” every time they walk through the door after a long day at the office. But instead of writing some beautiful prose, I’m gonna go all Barbara Walters on him and do an up-close-and-personal Q&A.
G (that’s me): So, Rudy, when I ask how your day went, you’re really not telling me the whole scoop, are you?
R (that’s him): Why would you want to hear about me cold-calling people and trying to sell them 30-second radio spots? I’d rather you thought I was actually doing something tangible like curing swine flu or building a homeless shelter.
G: There’s nothing wrong with selling people stuff. Anyway, you know we’d be proud of you regardless of what you did for a living.
R: What if I were a mob hit man?
G: No, not a mob hit man. I’d draw the line at mob hit man.
R: What about a Columbian drug kingpin?
G: OK, now you’re just being stupid. Back to my questions. What’s the one thing dads everywhere want the rest of us to know?
R: The best parts of my day are my morning good-bye hugs and the hello hugs I get the second I walk through the door. I’d say that’s universal. I think dads are wracked with guilt. I know I am. I work too much, even at home. I work because I have to, but also because I’m competitive and want to succeed. But when I miss a soccer practice or can’t make some after-school teacher meeting, it tears at me. I’m sure I’m not alone. Finding the right balance is a myth. It doesn’t exist. That’s why we die of heart attacks at 45.
G: That’s just two more years for you.
R: Well, I guess we’d better go to Disney World this summer.
G: Stop that. You’re making it sound like a father’s life is a tough, thankless gig.
R: Any moron can be a father. It takes a man to be a real dad. That’s all we strive to be.
G: How can moms make your lives easier?
R: I don’t think we’ve got enough paper or ink for that one.
G: Try me. Moms everywhere are on the edges of their seats ….
R: We don’t need anything except this simple understanding: Dads are under as much stress as the cast of Deadliest Catch. We wake up every day with the weight of the world on our shoulders and go to bed praying we did something that will help our kids avoid becoming knuckleheads. We dream about ours sons signing a letter of intent at an Ivy-League college and our daughter choosing to elope because it’s the right thing to do for the financial security of the family. We second-guess every move we make, but act like we never make mistakes. We love pizza night with the family more than poker night with the boys. Although we universally hate Grey’s Anatomy, we’re much bigger emotional wrecks than we let on. We’re this close to a breakdown a la Michael Douglas in Falling Down, but most of us stand tall in the pocket through it all. We can take a hit.
G: Sounds like you guys need to work in a little Oprah.
R: That’s not funny.
