Indulgent Parenting

Dearest Rachel –

So yesterday was a short one at the ‘office’; normally, I’d be there from at least ten until three, but I had my semi-annual dental appointment (yes, I’m far more faithful with that than my physical check-up. In fact, I’m not even sure how that works, now that Daniel and I have switched from a PPO to an HMO this past year, so I haven’t bothered with anything). That, too, was a little different than usual; normally, I’d be one of their first clients of the day in mid-morning, and pick up an early lunch for myself and Mom on my way back. But their morning schedule had already been spoken for, so I wound up there just a little after noon. So I simply put a couple of ‘office’ hours in before heading out, and calling it a day thereafter.

I’d also made the questionable decision to hit the gym this morning, leaving me with no real time to grab breakfast for myself – although it occurred to me that the less I ate before showing up at the dentist’s, the less he would need to clean off of my teeth (which turned out to be quite correct, as it happened). So by the time that ordeal was over and done with, I was both tired (from working out) and hungry (from skipping breakfast, and now being past what most people would consider the lunch hour).

While on my way to the appointment, I thought I would just come home and have myself a really late breakfast; the usual bowl of cereal (since both Logan and I had each bought a gallon of milk for the house on Sunday, in a bit of a comedy of errors. Normally, we can barely make it through a single gallon before reaching its expiry date, so having to suddenly deal with two gallons is going to be a challenge, to say the least) and maybe a bit of fruit. But somewhere along the way, I got to the point of actually hankering for something different: an onigiri.

Of course, we’re fortunate enough to have places where we can get that within a reasonable distance. Indeed, one could even say “within walking distance,” since we did walk home from there once, in the midst of a snowfall, no less, as you’ll recall. Granted, I wouldn’t recommend repeating the experience, snowfall or no, and even less so making a round trip of it, but the fact remains that it can be done, which not that many people can say.

In any event, I decided to ask Daniel if he would be interested in accompanying me there for lunch. He being as much at liberty as myself, and being as much a fan of Japanese food (if not necessarily riceballs, as such) as I am, was more than happy to do so. And so we headed off there, wandering around the grocery first to get ourselves some cold drinks unique to the place before making our way to the food court to get what each of us were interested in.

Normally, when we go there (and I’m pretty sure you remember being there a number of times like this), we tend to get whole plates of stuff – of in Daniel’s case, bowls, since he tends to favor udon or ramen. Additionally, there are places offering snacks and side dishes, which we rarely hold back from including in our meal, meaning that by the time we’re done, we’re as full as if we’d consumed an entire Thanksgiving repast; full to just this side of discomfort, but still quite content with everything we’ve eaten.

Not so much this time around, since I’d confined myself to my specific craving. To be sure, I’d gotten myself several varieties, even though I’m led to understand that a single onigiri is supposed to be a complete meal. Of course, I’ve been told that a single slice of deep-dish pizza is sufficient to be considered a full meal, but seriously, who on earth stops with a single slice? So too with the rice balls, especially since each one had a different filling I wanted to enjoy; I saw no reason to not indulge myself. Besides, the combination of meat and rice was healthier than a lot of things I could be eating for lunch (although perhaps the curry sauce they served with it offset that, but whatever). In any event, they were less filling than a plate of curry rice with any one of a number of meat cutlets atop the platter.

Daniel, too, wasn’t quite as full as usual, either. Of course, he regularly skips breakfast, so this wasn’t as out of the ordinary for him as for me, but when he eats, he eats; Mom could tell you about him eating on Thursday nights. But whatever he’d gotten, while it was something he’d been craving (an unusual thing for him, as he couldn’t tell at first whether the place he regularly patronized had it on their menu. I spotted it before he did, and thus assured, he headed up to order it), it wasn’t nearly as filling as whatever his usual dish was.

Which left us both curious about… dessert, which we rarely bother with, for reasons I’ve already explained. But there’s a crepe place in the food court that we never get the chance to try, and since neither of us was full at this point, he suggested that we give our sweet teeth a treat.

This is the sort of thing where a typical dad would do well to refuse; after all, one can’t go around gratifying every wish all the time. Self-denial builds character, and what do you think, we’re made out of money?

But that’s not the sort of parent I am, or have become, it would seem. It probably doesn’t help that I had no objection to getting a crepe of my own, especially after having inadvertently fasted for twenty hours – and hit the gym in the midst of them – until this late lunch we were sharing. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I deserved to indulge myself for that behavior, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to treat myself, and Daniel, after all that.

As we headed back through the market, on the way back to the car and home to eat our desserts (which were tasty and rich, just as they looked to be), I couldn’t help thinking what this tableaux must look like. To a certain extent, I felt like I was treating him much like a divorced father would treat a child on custody day, to get him to be able to remember me with that much more favor; “hey, your old man’s cool too, isn’t he, son?”

Even after five-plus years since you left us, I still think he favors you over me, honey. And while I don’t resent that – I’d favor you over him, too, if I had the choice – I don’t know what, if anything, I can do about that – or even if I should. The thing is, he’s stuck with me, the lesser parent, and I think we both wish it were otherwise. For now, all I can think of to do are moments like this, where we just enjoy being together, doing stuff and indulging ourselves. It’s probably not the healthiest thing, but it’s better than fast food, I guess.

In any event, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an eye on the two of us, and wish us well. We’re going to need it.