I’m coming to realize I find it extremely hard to write on weekends and my writing will need to be a Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 sort of job.
It has to do, I think, with the fact that my husband, L, is home and the kids need to be reined in so the man can get something done. It’s no easy task and every so slightly unpleasant. After all, L is away to work everyday and the kids don’t see him as much as they see me so, when he is home, they’re dying to spend time with him. And he is fun, he plays with them and he takes them places, even though his patience has clearly defined limits, he still makes the effort to do things with them. The problem with that is that, when he needs time to do other things, the kids, and mostly A, who is only three years old, gets really upset because, in his words, he wants ‘his daddy.’ It does break my heart a bit, though.
I never had that issue when I was a child. Whether my father had more patience or just because I was an only child and, hence, less demanding, I don’t remember my father losing the plot when we were going places. And I went pretty much everywhere with him, to do the shopping, when he was going to play tennis, to the tool shop…
My father and I have a great relationship. I mean, we fought a lot when I lived home, but he’s the one who has made more effort to understand my problems with BED. He listens and that’s invaluable.
We also share the unwavering support for Rafael Nadal and a love of tennis, since I got that from him. I still remember the tennis match that hooked me, Sergi Bruguera was playing at Roland Garros. That was quite a while before Nadal, of course.
Ultimately, you can get on better or worse with your father but you only have one and, except if the man is a monster, it’s better to make the best of that relationship. Sometimes it’s hard but, in my case, it’s easy.
Happy Father’s Day, papa!