PAT McDERMOTT
They say nothing beats a mother’s love, but a father’s wisdom is certainly some stiff competition.
The MOTH (The Man of the House) has been a dad for 44 years. He’s been right beside me all the way. I could count on him to say “sure” when I said “no”, and “over my dead body” when I said “yes”.
We were a dream team! Fortunately our five kids mostly worked it out for themselves.
The MOTH’s skill set included burping babies, changing nappies
(even the gross ones), knowing how to score at netball, coaching junior soccer and staying awake during schoolboy cricket.
He understood the finer points of debating and public speaking, and survived death by flute, violin and piano on more than one occasion. He once stopped me, to loud applause, from running on the field of play during a rugby match. I don’t know what the fuss was about. I simply
wanted to pull some louts off my little boy.
The family has a world-class collection of the MOTH’s “famous last words”. To celebrate Father’s Day 2019, I’d like to share a few. “Of course I won’t be late for the wedding! When is it again?
“We could make it to Perth and back on what’s in the tank!” (But not to the netball grand final.)
“Nobody needs to call a plumber! I have an IKEA toolkit. I’m not afraid to use it.
“If you tilt your head, the picture is totally level.
“I’m going to climb up and fix the damn ceiling fan myself.
“I don’t think my ankle is actually broken, but tell your mother I could use an icepack. You might also call an ambulance and turn off the fan.
It’s a little breezy on high like that. “Is that the cat we’ve always had? Because I’ve been feeding a black and white one.
“It’s not cold in this house! I’m holding my hands over the toaster because I’m waiting for my crumpet.”
When the children were younger, the MOTH sometimes couldn’t find them. This wasn’t his fault. We had a rambling house. Each bedroom was a different size and fairness was an issue. From time to time I’d move everyone around. Reagan would go to Patrick’s room, Ruff Red to Flynn’s room, Courtenay to Reagan’s room, Flynn to Courtenay’s room and Patrick to Ruff Red’s room.
The MOTH likes to find things, especially his children, where he left them. During my experimental phase, he’d put his head in to say goodnight to Reagan and find Courtenay. Ruff Red was down the hall on the wrong side. He never found Flynn and Patrick.
It took a week to put everyone back where they belonged.
Like many Aussie blokes “of a certain age”, the MOTH loves war movies. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” I told him. “It’s World War II. The good guys win!
“How many more documentaries, movies, simulcasts, re-enactments and interviews are you going to watch?” I asked.
“Two or three thousand,” he’d reply cheerfully, turning up the volume. “Although I could switch to football!” I gave up. I’ve watched enough war movies to know you have to pick your battles.
You don’t have to be a dad to be a dad. I hope the men in your life enjoy their funny socks, soap on a rope, cases of beer, carwash vouchers, pink shirts and hugs.
Lots of hugs.