When the hell did I turn into Uncle Buck? Despite the fact that it’s a John Hughes film (it’s the only film from his pantheon of cinematic crap I can stand to watch) it’s one of my favorite non sci-fi or horror movies from the 80′s. Nonetheless, I had no intention of ending up like him. I certainly didn’t intend to look like a short, Lebanese John Candy, but 22 years and 3 kids later, here I am. I guess it could have been worse, I could look like Anne Ramsey (you know, Throw Mama, or Sloth’s Mom for those of you as old as us).
In this movie, the exasperated, long suffering girlfriend is an exasperated, long suffering wife. Like John Candy, I’m playing out of my league here. Like John Candy I’m not complaining. On TV the guy who looks like his career choices are limited to ringing bells and hiding in windmills always has a good looking girlfriend/wife. I was never sure how that worked out, but I can tell you it does. The three of us are living proof. I don’t argue with it anymore.
My kids have played along with this theme, despite the fact that none of the three of them have seen the movie. That needs to change.
The youngest one loves trading smartass quips with me and more than holds her own. She actually sometimes thinks Dad is pretty cool. That honor is reserved for anyone under 6. Anyone older than that realizes that I’m not cool, just a weird, sad little man.
The boy is fine with me most of the time but hates it when I get all “old people” on him or make fun of him glued to his cell phone or Ipod touch. I don’t think twice about asking “hey, can I see that?” when he’s right in the throws of a text, thumbs ablazin’. He cautiosly hands the phone to me and I quickly turn it off and hand it back to him with a “finish your homework”. Sometimes he loves the insult-fests. His friends try to join in too, only to find they’re no match. It’s best they learn these things now before they set out into the cold, hard world. I’m happy to help.
The oldest daughter is always late, stalling at karate class or dance class. She’s the first one in the locker room and the last one out. It drives me nuts and it’s caused more than one knock-down drag-out between the two of us. Then a few days ago I figured it out. The older daughter is embarrassed to be seen with me. This doesn’t help as I’m usaully transporting her to and from said classes in my rusting, filthy, dented, disintegrating POS car. The steam rolling out of the tailpipe and the assortment of ambient noises emanating from under the hood just add to the picture. She’s also the drama queen of the house, and it’s getting worse as we approach the teen zone.
There is an upside to this movie epiphany though. I’m really looking forward to the parts of the movie where I get to torture the guys that try to hit on my daughters. That’s proving to be pretty fun so far as it’s started already. Maybe living the John Hughes dream isn’t so bad after all. It beats hanging out in a library with a bunch of cookie-cutter High School social stereotypes. And Charlie Sheen.
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