I really thought Father's Day was going to be terrible. Everyone says that all of the "firsts" are terrible.
I think, though, for the rest of my life I will remember the phone call telling me my dad died as the pinnacle of dad-grief terrible. I had chills immediately and started shaking even though it was warm in my house. I spent the whole night awake because when I woke up that morning, 15 hours before the call almost to the second, my dad had been alive, and I didn't want the last ever day with my dad in it to end. That day did end, though, and the days marched on relentlessly after it, each one widening the gap between life with my dad and this awful without.
So, with all of that in mind, Father's Day was just another day in terms of grief. It was also a great day to celebrate Ben, who is an excellent dad, of course.
We celebrated in a completely apropos way with a Little League game in the shadow of Miller Park.
Like 2 innings in, a park worker came up to me and was all, "Ma'am, we have a no alcohol policy."
Listen. I may be 41, but oh how I hate being ma'amed. Also, I am a total rule-follower, so I also hate breaking rules, especially ones I didn't really know about,
I told him I bought the beer at the concession stand, and he was like, "Did you really?"
I was stunned.
Not only were all of the families from the game before us drinking and grilling in the parking lot, but so were all of the families from the game after us. If I wanted a beer and knew I couldn't have one in the park, I could have gone to the parking lot like the ole soak I appeared to be. Plus, does he really think I would choose to drink Miller Light if I had infinite beer options?? Do I really look like a WI sports mom at last?
I suggested he talk to his concession guy, but also I felt like a HUGE LUSH.
(I was right though-- beer in the stands is precisely the cure for everything that ails you about kiddie baseball.)
(I also wish I had poked a hole in it with my keys and shot-gunned it right there.)
Look at that swing!