It's Always When You Can Have Whatever You Want For Dinner, You're Never Hungry

There might be great self-help books for dads who have their kids every other weekend, how to act, what to think, tips for getting a six year old to eat cereal and milk made the wrong way because Mommy knows how to pour the milk in the bowl the right way, but I've never seen one.

Of course, I realize and admit the strong possibility that not ever having looked could play a part in that, but it does seem when a marriage dissolves, there is a lot more support, books, articles, magazines that help the mother through it all, and frankly the father side seems a touch barren.

If someone was interested in writing such a book, here's exactly where to start and if you think you're going to become a single dad, beware of the silence of Sunday night. It's the worst. The pits. The bottom of the single dad barrel. Here's how it works.

Friday, end of work week, the whirling vortex that is your child or, in my case, children fly through the front door. The room is instantly transformed into a high energy playground, clothes and toys appear out of closets as I start to make dinner.

From that moment forward to Sunday around 7:00 pm, you are 100% in Dad mode. Play dates? Check. Rehearsal and practice? Check. Homework? Check. Now, like every Dad I am sure, I call their mother about 20 times to check on these things because the brain dump of to-dos I get at 5:45 on Friday night goes in one ear and out the other. Usually I stand in the street as the kids are halfway in the house, nodding like an idiot, like I actually know who the Fosters are and where the Johnsons live. Most of the time, I am not even clear on what child's friends we are talking about. But, luckily, my children are old enough so we don't miss major events but that's more due to their diligence than mine.

All week you live in adult land, and then you're forced, in the time it takes to walk inside, back into Daddy duty. You're negotiating meals, computer time, sleeping arrangements, the whole shebang and then just when you got your Daddy legs back, it's time for them to go home.

The ride back to their mother's house, I don't think it bothers them, but it bothers me. Usually they are quiet in the back and then they run in. I'm usually okay on the car ride home but then, the silence.

This is what they don't tell you about. This is what they should warn everyone who ever starts thinking about having children.

WARNING: Should you procreate and then split with the mother of your children, you will have them every other weekend and when they go home, the silence will just about kill you.

The toys are still there, the piles of laundry are there, the dishes are there. But the life forms that created this mess are far gone, nuked back home.

What works, somewhat, is to keep busy. By 9:15 p.m., I have done the laundry, the dishes, and the cleaned the bedroom. I have carefully folded all the clothes and made the beds. I never make the bed when they are there I realized but when they're gone, I'm fluffing pillows and tucking in sheets. I always put all the stuffed animals in a line, waiting for their masters to return, sometimes I put notes on them for the kids for when they return.

Then it's time for a late dinner. After six straight meals of figuring out what everyone wants, explaining that no, you can't have pizza again and of course you believe their mother gives them ice cream for breakfast, now it's just you. Now you can have anything, now you can go out, stay in, order take out. The world is your oyster. Go for it.

In the silence, you usually find yourself not so hungry after all. In the silence, it's hard to find your appetite for anything but for the sound to come back. Most of the time, I don't have dinner, or maybe clean up the leftovers.

Tomorrow morning, the work week starts. Tomorrow night, there are things to do. But on Sunday night, you just sit, listen to the silence, hope you made the right decision, and wonder how many hours till morning.