Five things I hated about my Dad

There's a time in your life when you everything your dad does is idolized in your eyes:

He can do no wrong, you are his princess (or prince), and love is overflowing through both of your pores. You play, eat and sleep.

Nothing really significant happens during the first few years of your life. Looking back, life was pretty uncomplicated before you started school.

Then suddenly...

Around the age of five or so, your dad goes from doting and loving, never-can-do-no-wrong God, to a over-bearing and strict human being.

Instead of laughing at your mishaps, he starts to correct you. Intead of playing all day on the weekends, now he stays up with you and makes you complete your homework before you play.

Suddenly, although plenty of fun and games are to be had, my life wasn't all about fun and games.

At the ripe old age of five, I had suddenly entered the real world. Life as I knew it had changed and it would never be the same again.

I went from loving my dad to really dispising him. Not all of the time, some of the time. And he was perfectly OK with that.

There were plenty of reasons to hate my dad, but plenty more of why it was OK to do so. Hating my dad would, with time, make me a better person. Let me tell you why:

Reason number one: Homework before Play

As I shared earlier in my post, playing was only second to responsibilities. It didn't matter how much I wanted to go outside and play, I couldn't until I was done with my homework.

I can almost smell the ditto page as I sat with my dad going through each answer!

But wait, I couldn't be just done, my homework had to be as perfect as possible. This meant no eraser marks (Boy, am I dating myself on this one!) and no sloppy writing.

I didn't understand back then when my dad was trying to show me through this simple excercise: Work and responsibilities come before play.

Reason number two: No Weekly Allowance

Even while in boarding school in Mexico, most classmates had an allowance. I didn't.

When pouting about this, my dad would tell me that I had to "ask if I needed money (or things), and he would be happy to give me what I needed."

Instead of feeling intitled, my dad was teaching me critical thinking skills. I had think strategically before I asked, and only ask if I needed to. Poutting and brattiness never worked. I had to put together a well thought-out discourse and action plan.

Which takes me to reason number three why I hated my dad: I didn't always get what I wanted

Sure, he told me to give him reasons to ask for what I wanted and he would be happy to give it to me. But he never told me he wouldn't get me everything I wanted or in the timeline I wanted it in. (which was almost always right then and there)

Case in point: Sure, I got my car before I graduated high-school. It was a brand-spanking new (get ready now): 1989 Toyota Tercel in Burgandy red.

I only got it once I was hired in my first job at K-mart making, get ready to laugh now, $3.65 an hour; and I kept my grades up-to a minimum grade point average of 3.5 (I graduated with a 3.75!); and I would pay for the car payment myself from my measily earnings. (my dad paid the insurance and kept the car up).

I promised, which was in my dads view, "tu palabra," a stronger commitment than a contract, not to drive unless I was going to work and once I went to college.

I couldn't use my car to go out with my friends, as he would say, because "I would be fully liable for someone elses life if I made the bad decision to drive anywhere with my friends in the car and something, God forbid, happens."

How's that for a damper in your Friday night plans?!

Without knowing, my dad was teaching me that you not only had to work towards what you have in life, but that most everything you earn wouldn't happen without the help of others.

I also had to "think" before I acted and understand that everything in life has consequences.

And boy does life have consequences! The one time I chose to stay out a bit later than my curfew, albeit I was working late! My dad locked me out of the house.

Yep, he sure did. Boy, was I MAD and embarrased!

Which is reason number four why I hated my dad: I had to follow-through with my commitments.

It wasn't that I walked in late, it was that I didn't call to let him know I wouldn't be coming home at the time I told him I would.

In my defense, I was feeling a bit frisky and daring after spending the evening with my colleagues who would all share how they could "walk in at whatever time they wanted at home and their parents didn't care."

If my friends parents didn't care, I thought to myself, well, gosh darn-it, my parent's shouldn't care either!

So instead of calling my parents to let them know I would be going home late, I didn't and found the house door locked!

My mother and dad, of course, where not sleeping. Instead, they were gazing over their window and waited a few minutes before my mom opened the door.

"You locked the door!" I clammered.

It didn't matter, my mother escorted me upstairs to talk to my father. Who, in his typical fashion, spoke to me like an adult:

"You know what time you are expected to be home. If you are running late, call us." That was it. No screams, no fights. Just a very stern "you-know-what-to-do" lesson that I never forgot:

I have to follow-through and respect other's time, as much as my own.

And when those actions had horrible consequences, like when I spent a bit too much on clothes and make-up, my dad wasn't there to save me.

Which is reason number five why I hated my dad: My decisions and actions, good or bad, had consequences.

There was no bailing me out or telling my parents "please pay my bills because otherwise I can't go out with my friends or get new clothes."

Nope, the conversation, instead, went something like this:

"You seem to be buying too many things that you can't afford right now." My dad calmly told me.

I tried to explain to him that credit cards where as close to God as anything else on this God green earth. I could buy Benetton, 9-West and Lancome and not pay till later, I tried to reason with him. "Much, much later," I exclaimed in my valspeak.

I was also secretely trying to get him and my mom, to somehow pay off my car while I continued to shop.

Guess what? It didn't happen. I had to pay off the car, and my dad, to reason with me, stopped paying all car repairs. All of them!

I was not being let off the hook - I was actually given more responsibility! Daddy and mommy didn't run in or position themselves as the two people I could fall back-to.

My dad, instead, told me that if I could "shop all I wanted with my magic cards" then I could "take on more of the car responsibilities."

Gosh darn him! I soo hated him then and for the next year (or two) for not being to get everything I wanted or go out when I wanted because I had to pay for oil changes instead!

But boy did that teach me a lesson in money management and prioritizing. A lesson that has helped me tremendously while growing my business and managing my life as a newly married woman.

Fathers: It's OK to be hated by your Kids

While many dads worry that their kids will hate them, I secretely hope that they do. I strongly believe that kids hate you once you teach them life lessons that will (ultimately) make them better adults.

So on this Father's Day, I celebrate the amazing dads that are being hated everywhere. YOU are the dads that will make a difference in the lives of your children.

I promise you that your kids will stop hating you...Just wait till they grow up!