Weekend Recap: Father's Day Edition

Normally, Mondays are when I write a weekend recap in my blog. But since yesterday was Father’s Day, I’m going with a Father’s Day special. I’ll have a weekend recap tomorrow and 10 random things on Wednesday.

Just in case this is your first time here, I’m a father of three and a marathon runner. My middle child, 6 1/2-year-old Jack, is severely autistic. I’ve wanted to make a difference in the autism community, and I do fairly well recovering from marathons, so I came up with this idea of running 60 marathons this year to try to raise money and awareness for a charity called Train 4 Autism. I ran the idea by my wife and she made the decision that we’d do it (I say “we”, because it’s a family effort — not just me). No sense looking back and wondering what if. And no sense not stepping up when somebody needed to step up — I’ve been given a gift, so it would be a waste to not take advantage of it. We named the endeavor Operation Jack, after our special guy.

So far, so good, kind of. I’m on schedule with the races. On Saturday, I completed my 30th marathon of the year, struggling through Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth, Minn. I’m building chapters and raising money. I’m not hitting the numbers I’d hoped for, but I think I’m making a difference and if you look at the spelling of my last name (F-e-l-s-e-n-f-e-l-d), you won’t find a “q-u-i-t”. So, I carry on. With Operation Jack and with this blog.

As I Mentioned, Father’s Day Edition
Ok, so Father’s Day is a big day to me. My dad is a very special guy to me. I’m not going to say he did a perfect job raising me, because nobody is perfect. But he sure did try his best and I think he did a great job. I’ve always thought that, but I feel like I can say that more confidently now that I’m 35. Speaking of which, even though I’m halfway to 70, he hasn’t stopped being a dad. I remember when Tiffany was pregnant with our first child, Benjamin, we were worried about him reaching 12 weeks and then 20 and then 32. The worrying was making me sick, so I asked him when that would stop. “I don’t know,” he told me. “You’re 26 and I haven’t stopped. But when I do, I’ll let you know.”

Anyways, his dad, my Grandpa Milt, is still around, which I’m so grateful for. He’s everything you want your grandpa to be. Incredibly loving and friendly. We named Jack after his dad as a tribute to him. Quick funny story: My dad’s grandpa’s name was Jack Felsenfeld, and now that’s his grandson’s name. The first time my dad saw Jack, he picked him up and said, “Well, well, well … Jack Felsenfeld … who’s the grandpa now?”

OK, so for Father’s Day, a few weeks ago, Tiffany asked me what I wanted to do, so I told her that I didn’t care, as long as I could get together with my dad and my grandpa and the kids. So that’s what we did. It was also my brother’s birthday, so we had a family get-together at a restaurant that was pretty nice. We took this picture afterwards, and it’s one of my favorite pictures ever.

My grandfather on my mom’s side passed away in 1983 when I was only 9. I remember him, but he barely got a chance to know me and didn’t see me grow up like my Grandpa Milt did. I was at a funeral last year in the same cemetery he’s buried in (along with my grandmother he was married to, who passed in 1982). I went over and visited their graves and couldn’t help but wonder what they think of me and my family as they look down on us. Someday I’ll get a chance to ask.

So moving along, I never used to feel like I deserved Father’s Day gifts from my kids, because I didn’t feel like I did a good enough job as a dad. Every year, it was the same story. I would talk to Tiff after the kids went to bed and get upset, because I didn’t feel like I deserved anything. I wanted to be a better dad and earn the holiday.

But I’m finally starting to like Father’s Day as it applies towards me. I don’t want to say that I’m a good dad, because I think that’s such a huge, important compliment, and I’m not about to be so arrogant as to bestow that upon myself. But I believe that I try hard and my kids are well off with me around. I know they like me, I know I fight for all three of them, and I know the most important thing I’ll ever do on this planet is raise them to be good people.

It was nice to spend yesterday with them (that’s why I picked Grandma’s Marathon — I wanted to be home for Father’s Day) and I feel like I deserved to celebrate. Tiff and I struggle with time and finances, and we struggle with Jack’s issues, but I really feel like I am so blessed to be a father. I am so blessed to be their father. I frequently take a step back, I look at what I have, I think, “this is the life God has chosen for me,” and I’m pretty happy about that.

My Father’s Day Started Friday
Ava is in the same preschool that Ben went to for his last year of preschool, and she’s been there for three years now, so I’m pretty used to the routine. On the Friday before Father’s Day, they have something called “Donuts With Dad”. They bring in donuts, the dads eat with the kids, then go out to the playground for a few minutes before heading inside to hear the kids sing a cute little song.

Then, we head to the classroom, where we get the artsy-craftsy gifts the kids made. Tiff gets Muffins With Mom, I get Donuts With Dad. We have this routine down.

So when I was planning my flight to Minnesota, I definitely planned it around that. Unfortunately, it did a number on my travel schedule. Instead of a direct flight from John Wayne Airport, which is about 20 minutes from my house, I got to drive more than an hour to Ontario and I had to switch planes. Minneapolis is a 2 1/2-hour drive from Duluth, so on the way there, due to the later flight, I got into town at about 11 p.m. the night before the race instead of early in the afternoon. And on the way back, instead of a direct flight into John Wayne and a quick drive to be home before 8 p.m., I got to switch planes, fly to Ontario and make the drive home.

Nothing like a marathon on 5 hours of sleep, a 2 1/2 hour drive to the airport, two flights to get home and then an hour drive to finally walk through my front door about 20 hours after I woke up. But I wouldn’t miss Donuts With Dad for anything!

On Wednesday, Ava woke up before I got back from my run and told Tiff she wanted to talk to me. So when I got in, she told me (in her cute little voice) that she really wanted me to go to Donuts With Dad. She so totally owns me, it’s not even funny. Of course I was going, and I told her that if I had to, I would miss one of my Operation Jack trips before I missed going to her school. On Friday morning, I took Jack to school and then came back home. She woke up while I was out and was so upset when she asked Tiff where I was and found out I was gone. She thought I had already gone on my trip!

But we made it to Donuts With Dad. Between the two of us, we ate three donuts. She had a half a donut. We played on the playground, they sang their song and I got my gifts. One of the items was a framed poem with one of her handprints. The poem talked about her growing older and me being able to keep her little handprint around as a reminder. I’ll admit it — I started getting a little watery-eyed.

I don’t have a favorite kid. But I do have a favorite daughter!

My First Born
Benjamin misbehaved quite a bit on my birthday last year. Kids are kids and you can’t expect them to be perfect, but he sure did misbehave that day. So the first time he slipped yesterday, we told him gently not to do to Father’s Day what he had done to my birthday.

He had a few slip-ups, and he started to get a little silly at dinner, but all-in-all, he had a good day. When I tucked him in at bedtime, I told him that nobody can possibly be perfect — not me and not him. I also told him that while neither of us were perfect yesterday, he was still well-enough behaved. We both agreed that he’s a good kid, that I wasn’t perfect and we had a nice day.

We used to butt heads a lot when he was going through his “terrible” phase about five or six years ago and when I was worse at this parenthood thing than I am now. But it’s gotten infinitely better and he’s a great son.

And Of Course, There’s Jack
Do I really need to go into detail about Jack here? I have no idea what he understands, although I’ve been told by his therapists that he understands a lot more than we think he does. When I tuck him in at night, I frequently tell him that I’m proud of him for how hard he works to fight through everything, because I am. I also tell him I’ll always have his back and I’ll take care of him until the day I die, because I will.

That’s All For Today
Sorry the blog was a little long. That’s what was on my mind today, though. I’ll see you tomorrow with a weekend recap. Have a great Monday, everybody!