Every year everyone gets worked up about Mother's Day and makes sure to have all of the mothers recognized (okay, Mom, you're right. This year I forgot. Well, it was even wore than that. I remembered and then ran out of time and then forgot the next day), but then by the time Father's Day rolls around, we're celebrated out or something. I don't actually remember a single thing I ever did for my dad on Father's Day, other than sing "I'm So Glad When Daddy Comes Home" every single year with the primary. But if we forgot Mother's Day, we'd definitely be in trouble. It's probably good that I'm a whole ocean away from my mother this year, and I won't see her until 2013 anyway.
Brandon's Father's Day is made even worse because his birthday comes the week before Father's Day. So I get worked up about planning a wonderful birthday and then promptly forget about his holiday the next week. And then of course we both forget about OUR fathers, and the sin is doubled.
This year for Brandon's birthday I was sick. I was able to medicate myself enough to go out with him and get some fantastic steak, and go carpet shopping in the Old City, but the next day I paid for it and spent the entire day in bed.
So instead of making him a delicious birthday dinner - eggs benedict (a very popular birthday choice around here) - and a cake, I huddled in my bed and listened to a book. Brandon then got to make his own birthday dinner and brought it to me in bed. Then he got to take care of the children for the rest of the day. He finally got a birthday cake the next day - burnt angel food cake - and open his presents two days late.
Thankfully for me and our marriage, he's a very tolerant husband.
So this year Father's Day did not get forgotten and I made up for myself. We had leftovers for dinner - at Brandon's request. Whenever I ask him what he wants for a special dinner, he always responds, "something simple. I'd rather have you not stressed than have something delicious and have you going crazy because of the trouble." I'm not sure if that means he's very concerned about my welfare or I'm so obnoxious when I'm stressed that he'll do anything do avoid having to deal with me in that state. Probably both.
But after our hodgepodge of leftovers, I sent Brandon upstairs for his turn at book listening (we only have one iPod, and all of the library books are loaded on it) and got to work. Item number one: ice cream. It didn't take too long to mix together the ingredients for the custard-based ice cream, and I've made and ruined enough custards to rapidly cook them to the point where they're almost curdled but not quite. No double boilers for me.
Next step: pie crust. I've just found a new recipe that is part butter, part shortening. I confess that I stole some scraps myself from the pile of scraps I made for the children. After that, two pounds of cherries to pit, filling to make, and then cherry pie.
It sounds simple, but by the time I was done and the pie was out of the oven and cooled,
I had put the children to bed and they might have even been asleep. So Brandon and I got to enjoy our pie and ice cream outside on our patio in the pleasant evening twilight while I shamelessly dug for compliments. "Aren't you so glad you have a wife who can make such delicious pie all from scratch? And with home made ice cream too? Haven't I given you such a wonderful Father's Day? Boy, you are one lucky man." Because, of course, when you do something nice for somebody, you have to get all of the mileage you can out of it.
I finished the evening with his gift. I made sure to point out that I had thought a month in advance to order him something for Father's Day because that's how much I love him and want to make him happy. And then I used his gift to make him happy. After all, it is Father's Day.
So Father's Day this year: a success. And I've prepared the ground for Mother's Day next year.