Site icon Jyl Barlow

An Ode to Father’s Day: Dadisms

PSA to all the moms out there distracted by grocery shopping, laundry, taxi driving, end-of-school-year theme days, meal planning (also prep, cooking, and cleanup), disciplining, etc… 

This is not your week. This week is dedicated to the fathers. 

And, yeah, I get it – it seems like we are still recovering from the cluster frackle that was Mother’s Day, but it’s time to turn this bus around and give credit where credit is due: to the guy who gets to play good cop 24/8, the guy who leads the eye rolls aimed to the taskmaster, the guy who shows up five minutes before all major projects are done with a kind, “Need any help?” as he readies to take the hero’s shot. 

In all seriousness, fathers are often the Ying to our mothering Yang, a much-needed variant that keeps our homes functioning by offering an essential, more palatable opposite side of the parenting coin.

As my children are old enough to participate in this day, I pushed this blog off onto the fruits of my husband’s loin. My husband loves our children fervor and protects them fiercely. While he may take a pass on many of the necessities that keep our daily life moving along, he will always reign as the parental favorite.

It’s fine. Really. No hard feelings.

Months ago, I asked our children to begin compiling a list of their favorite Dadisms. I did not take into account that what I was really doing creating an additional topic to on which to nag those forgetful wonders but, eventually, a list did reveal itself.

Without further adieu, a few family favorites that drive us bananas and, yet, we could not live without:

The Classics:

Mealtime Favorites:

Car Favorites:

House Favorites:

Reserved only for me:


Truthfully, this list could go on and on. It does become difficult, however, to determine which of my husband’s favorite dadisms are actually dadisms and which are just methods of verbal torture to his beloved family’s ears.

Still, without them, a hole would be put into the rhythm of our home.

And maybe that’s it – maybe that’s is the real reason that Dads are pre-programmed with a list of quirky comebacks ready to reveal themselves when children arrive. Maybe this is just another way their genetics are wired to provide a safe rhythm to the families they dote on. There is, after all, comfort in consistency. There is a comfort in knowing that on this unpredictable roller coaster of life, this part will never change. 

Just as we can count on his presence, his forgiveness, his words of wisdom, and his unconditional love– we can also count on these groaners and their ability to snap us back to a feeling of stability. So yes, while we may roll our eyes, we are truly grateful that this thing will never, ever change. 

Still, one of my many hopes is that one day, when the old “A wheelbarrow to get me to the car” is thrown, someone will magically appear with one. I just want to know, will he really hop in?

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