That’s right. You have built the kind of pain threshold that would make professional fighters put on a tutu, hockey players take up knitting and Army Rangers look for a type writer. Teen Daughter Syndrome is no laughing matter, like, say, the Economy or the Swine Flu. Beware! There is a new menace! It is more complicated than crawling blind folded through a two story pile of barbed wire without losing blood.
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Another Daughter Syndrome. Don’t laugh yet. I’m not talking about the one you brought home from the hospital. I’m talking about the young lady your son brought home.
You didn’t see this one coming, did you? The guys thus far had stuck together…watched football games, made cool noises and smells, broken and burned things, worked loud and sweaty in the yard. You even tried to gang up on your wife and gross her out with tapioca and spaghetti. But now, your wife’s son has run off, found him a woman and married her. Who is she? What is her dad like? Does he take painkillers or just have a huge heart?
Your wife told you it was coming. You saw it coming. You did. You tried to understand it, to analyze it, to make a solid decision. But it happened too fast. You were still pondering when you came to and BAMO! You’re standing front row, on the groom’s side of the church in a tux. Then the cold truth slaps your face: you never had a chance. They included you out of pity. They were thankful for the funding. But in the end, you were just collateral damage.
With your wife’s encouragement, which sounds an awful lot like “Don’t be stupid! She’s a wonderful young lady! I love her! I can’t wait to spend more time with her!” you begin to adjust.
You observe that your boy (a man really, twice as smart as you ever were) acts differently. He and your new daughter are “discussing” something from “different perspectives”. This will be good, you think. The boy is stubborn and persistent. He has to win. Popcorn falls from your open mouth as you witness this carnage:
Your boy: “Let’s go to Luigi’s tonight for dinner”
New daughter: “We don’t want to do that, sweetie.” She’s twirling his hair as she softly gazes into his eyes.
Your boy: “We don’t?”
New daughter: “No, sugar. Let’s go to the Metro and have tofu blobs instead”
Your boy: “OK. Sounds good to me.”I whip around and look to my wife. Intervention? Body Snatcher Police? Who do I call? My son is missing! I whisper through my teeth to my wife “We gotta talk!”
She uses her kind eyes as she approaches me with a hand up to stop. As she guides me to the kitchen, she asks “What’s the matter?” Incredulous, frothing at the mouth, I stage whisper “You didn’t just see what I saw? He hates tofu blobs! For that matter, who doesn’t? Why doesn’t he stand his ground? Did she steal his soul?”
The much praised and admired wife of many years poses a question: “Do you remember another young man willing to do anything to spend time with his new wife?” “Tommy Smith?” I blurt out.
She punches me in the gut. “No, you dork. YOU.”
“I was never that bad. I mean, come on. That’s nauseating”. Hands on her hips, she cocks her head to the side, eyebrow arched. Judge, jury, executioner. “I have to admit” she pauses for the kill, “you were worse, really, truly pathetic”. I try to argue. But eventually, my denials run dry. She is right. I am just confused.
I acknowledge (“Hi! I’m Tom and I’m a Father. Welcome to Father’s Anonymous”.) that my boy has not changed. Just blessed enough to marry a woman he passionately loves. I have avoided the real issue as long as possible: I must learn about this New Person, this Daughter I know very little about. This cheery, loud, dramatic creature who pops up and says “Hi, Dad!”
For now I must stop. Many of the dads are still processing this double-barreled threat: your own daughters steal your heart. You can deal with that. But now your sons will choose another daughter you will know nothing about. You have no choice. Your son loves her. You must love her too. Will she love you? Your wife and the New Person are already thick as thieves. What does that mean?
I don’t know. I need to find some tapioca and spaghetti.
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