Thursday nights are generally pretty fun for the Schoenberger family.
For folks who don’t know, that consists of my daughter and me.
After picking Kalista up from school, it’s a quick shot home for a snack and off to dance class with a bag of gymnastics gear in hand. We’re usually 3 to 5 minutes late to the first affair, which is a 25-minute drive away. Once this is over, we eat out and head back to the Greenwood YMCA for gymnastics. We’re usually 3 to 5 minutes early for that.
Two years ago, nothing seemed uncomfortable about me doing things like this. Kalista was 4; so were her companions. Parents had fun watching their kids have fun.
But at the age of 6, it feels so different. First, I am largely outnumbered as a father observing these practices. Second, these practices are so much more serious than they used to be – now they’re miniature competitions on a weekly basis, for both the children and parents.
On one side sit the Jon Bennet Ramsey moms. They chat among themselves about how awesome their daughter is, how she wants to wear deodorant and asked the week before about shaving her legs. In contrast to them are the mothers who’ve outwardly embraced their roles as homemakers, limiting their conversations to topics such as baking, SUVs and vacation hotspots.
There are no places for fathers who serve as mothers.
I don’t fit with the guys who show up to these practices. My chief concerns go beyond what most dads worry about, such as finances, vehicle maintenance and home remodeling. However, I wouldn’t be taken seriously or heterosexually if I shared recipes with a mom.
So I sit quietly at these events, observing the star who brought me there.
At times I’d like to stand up as someone psychotic in mental health and tell the mothers this isn’t a pissing contest. One time it’d be nice to put my spaghetti against theirs. Maybe we could have a competition – and I’d wear deodorant. It is easy to be angered by this secret society of which I am not a part.
But that’s pretty useless. This nearly-animalistic lifestyle has been the natural order of our culture since the 1950s; I am in no position to judge. I suppose I am envious for my daughter’s sake is all.
So I will continue to limit my company to that of myself at these events. I will continue to be on the outside. And I’ll continue to look forward to Thursday nights with my daughter.
After all, she’s the reason I do any of this stuff.
Just Carrying On ... 