“A Day Without a Mexican” was a movie that depicted what life would be like in California if there were no Mexicans for a single day. There was chaos and confusion. Californians couldn’t function as they hadn’t realized the full impact that Mexicans had on their city and their lives.
After watching the movie I thought to myself, could this world survive without mothers? Obviously biologically and from a reproductive perspective, the answer is no. But what would an estrogen-free world mean to children? What if I didn’t have my wife next to me everyday. What if I didn’t have a guide telling me “you can’t do that” or “that’s not such a good idea” or “that’s too dangerous”?
My wife will go on her girl’s weekend, leaving just me and my daughter to fend for ourselves. So what if we go the entire day wearing only our underwear? Who cares that we’ll take turns drinking out of the milk carton? Forks? Knives? Plates? Napkins? All optional. Just rub your dirty hands in between the couch cushions. Right? Stripes and polka dots for an outfit? If it works for me, it will work for my daughter. I will just put a cute hat on her head, call her hipster, and call it a day.
But who’s going to teach my daughter the sensitive lessons of life? Compassion, empathy, sympathy, and love? I am the type of dad that will tell my daughter to walk it off after she skins her knee. If she spills her milk? I’ll really give her something to cry about. I am not cold and heartless, I guess I am just callous to emotion. I’m a Dallas Cowboys fan; I have to be insensitive to pain and heartbreak. My daughter is extremely sensitive and I don’t really know how to deal with it. Except when it turns into that whimpering, snotty-nose type of cry and then my heart turns to mush. Turns out all I have to do is cuddle and console her and she calms down quickly, sometimes even falling asleep right in my arms.
My own mother passed away in 2007. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if my dad had passed away instead of my mom. I think if it had been him, our family would still be close but when my mother died, we all just went our separate ways. My father is not a bad guy, he just wasn’t my mom. Families seem to rally around the mother, like in the movie Soul Food; except my brother isn’t as cool as Mekhi Phifer. And although the father is considered the “head” of the household, it’s not that way in my house. It’s really the moms who keep everyone together and bring them closer.
I know in this household, I can sneak through a weekend without needing to play both lead roles like a single parent. Eventually my daughter will need to put on her pants. I’ll leave it to her mother to make sure her clothes match.
Image Source:// Author’s Own