Rain

Yesterday we left Madera in the rain. It rained all the way home. I honestly didn't know it would be that bad, but I was made to feel like it was all my fault. I wouldn't intentionally put my family in that type of danger. Still, I was made to feel like a six year old who just can't do anything right. It really sucks when someone makes you feel completely inept. Maybe I never should have become a father. If I can't figure out when to drive home, how am I supposed to raise my children without destroying them?

NO, Julian!

I am becoming increasingly frustrated with hearing people tell my son, Julian, "NO!" I even hear myself saying it more and more, with an increased intensity. I have become the sounding board of the world around me that constantly denies him when he has nothing better to do than just be curious. Ya basta! Its time to start telling him yes for a change. Or else I just might explode at the wrong place, at the wrong time; and we all know there's not turning back from that.

Music and Such

I've been working to share some good music with my kids and I think its working. Both Maya and Julian have these small video game type things that also holds music and I get to choose which songs go where. Of course, I need to indulge them with their kiddo music, but then I can be more creative. It sure is nice to drive down the freeway and hear Love and Rockets, the Beatles, Pink Floyd, and Manu Chau coming from the back seat. There is no way of knowing how this might influence them, but once my mom let me listen to her Beatles records, it was all over because my musical appreciation took one huge leap around the age of six.

I'm no musician, but later when life has a tendency to take adolescents on wild journeys, music helped make my journey more complex. During the mid-1980s MTV had a show called 120 Minutes where I first heard Love and Rockets' "Yin and Yang the Flowerpot Man", as well as other artists like the Butthole Surfers, Souixsie and the Banshees, and Sonic Youth. All of these were worth listening to because it was good music and often had interesting lyrics. Yin and Yang the Flowerpot Man might actually be one of the reasons I became an English major. It also helped that I was often loaded during the show, so the music was that much better.

Now its time for my son and daughter to learn music. I'm sure they will have their pop music phases coupled with their exploratory phases, and that is a-okay. Still, I love it when I put on War or Jimi Hendrix and Maya says, "I like that song daddy," because she will have a better repertoire of music than the average kid. And when Julian reaches in and pulls out Los Lobos or PJ Harvey, I know that he might be the only kid in his class listening to that music. With the understanding of a variety of music often comes the understanding of a variety of life experiences. Maybe Rage Against the Machine sounds like red hot noise to some, but when my kids are throwing their fists in the air singing, "A fire in the master's house is set!" there is more to it than sounds coming from the speakers. Those rides in my truck just might change the world someday. Then, those music filled rides to school will take on entirely new meanings. One can dream.

Anger

I don't know why, but I've been angry most of my life. Now, it is affecting my marriage and how I parent. Actually, it probably has always affected my marriage and how I parent, I just didn't want to admit it. A while back Denise challenged me with some tough questions that I didn't want to face, and although I don't remember exactly what those questions were I did begin thinking last night about many different things.

First, if I am truly going to change as a husband, then I need to change as a parent. When I was single all I wanted was to have a family. I was angry that I didn't have a family. I was angry that I was always alone. I was angry that I was depressed. I was angry, angry angry. But I was angry at the wrong things. I should have been angry that I was so angry, not at what I believed was my innate right, which was to have a family. When I got a family I became angry at all the responsibilities. I just haven't been able to find a balance, but the common factor is that I keep getting angry at the things I want. I want my freedom to sit and write, drink a beer with a friend, or have some silence. When I had that freedom I was angry. When I got the family I wanted so bad, I got angry that I had to hang out with my wife's friends, take kids to school and pick them up, and be there for them whenever they need me; but that's what I said I wanted. That is what I agreed to as a married man. That is what I agreed to as an adoptive father. But sometimes it all seems like too much.

Now I know I am being selfish here, but sometimes I want the best of both worlds. That makes me a man. Not a macho man, but it makes me just like every other man out there, including my father, who I looked down upon for not fulfilling his fatherly duties well enough. Here I am now, wanting to go out and play or relinquish my responsibilities for a while (hours, not days) and just get on with it. One of the most difficult things has been to realize that I am no different from all those other dads who don't take their kids to school. In fact, maybe I'm worse because I do it begrudgingly, when I should be happy to take my kids to school. I should feel honored that I am the last member of their family they see as they are turned over to their teachers. Instead, I grumble because I won't have enough time at work; and honestly, I probably waste more time at work than I should, so what's my problem? My problem is that I am just a man, and I'm no different than the rest of them even though I have tried and tried to be some sort of super-dad. The problem is that it just isn't getting me anywhere and what's worse is that it is even straining my marriage.

Denise is a great woman. After all, she puts up with me and my moods. She puts up with my negative attitude. She puts up with me trying to prove my worth by focusing on the wrong things all the time. I wouldn't be surprised if she has completely fallen out of love with me by now. I mean really, how is it that she can stay in love with a moody, narcissistic fool like me? I've tried doctors and medication. I bought an expensive bike to ride. I have a great phone that is a mini-computer. I have a dream job. And none of it is enough. Maybe its all too much. I've lost sight of the beauty of my forest while cursing the multitude of trees surrounding me. I've lost my wife and children because I have been so concerned about blaming everything on everyone that I have lost sight of the beauty of my own life.

I'll never be anywhere near as good as I want to be. Regardless of whether it is being a father, husband, or teacher, I will never be good enough in my own eyes. I am not even sure why I constantly need that validation to show what I have done to be worthy of any type of acceptance. I am a decent person, but if I cannot come to grips with chaos that I have allowed to happen in my life, then my family will be done for. That is not what I want, but I need to learn how to put it into perspective in a way that works; and it needs to be done in a way that helps Denise, Julian, and Maya more than it helps me because their happiness should be mine, not the other way around.

If all goes well the next few days will be better. If the days are better, then the weeks should improve, too. Only time will tell. Only I can do this and it needs t be done quietly and without reservation. Only then can I save my family from myself.

men's group

So I went to a support group for fathers who have children with autism. I enjoyed it. I think I needed it. When I got home, Denise and I spent most of the rest of the night talking about Julian. Eventually she changed the subject and we talked about Maya. Then we went to bed and she fell asleep. Now I'm up writing at 12:30 am. This is what life has become. Strange.

Realize

I've come to realize that I'm not a very good dad. I'm grumpy and I even turn downright mean. That's got to suck for my kids. I don't want them to grow up thinking that I was such a terrible father. I love them, but it's hard. Fatherhood is difficult. I can see why my dad pretty much walked away. Fatherhood is fucking complicated. Its not like the movies where everything just works out. Four year olds don't care if you have a bad day. Seven year old don't care if you've had a bad day.

Great Week

Now that summer vacation is coming to an end, I've flipped out a couple of times, and my wife finally gave me a very real reality check, I have had a great week. I took Maya to the zoo and she was hilarilous, not to mention too cute. All she really needs is to feel like the world really does revolve around her, and Bazinga! she is the greatest kid on the planet. Boy, who would have guessed that it would be so easy. On Thursday morning Maya and I had breakfast at the Jalisco Cafe where she danced to boleros while watching herself in the mirror, and everyone in the whole restaurant was watching her. Quick, someone get that girl a stage! Later on, I took Julian and my nephew Jake to the Padres game. We sat in all you could eat seats and we beat the Dodgers. Plus baseball games are so much cheaper when you don't drink beer. Again, who knew? Then yesterday, Friday, Maya and I got a donut on our way to the park where she played her heart out and told all the boys what to do. We're in for some big trouble in the next few years, but I'd rather her be tough than demure. Boy, what a simple thing, just give them all the attention they want and the world is such a happy place.

Father's Day

So Father's Day was cool. I got to lay around in bed and Maya read books to me, ulian was chilling, and Denise made me M&M pancakes. Dope. Then we went down to the Embarcadro and took the kids on tours of the boats at the maritime museum, and we even took a boat ride around the bay. Father's Day really is about being a father mor than anything else. For some of us, that can be a difficult task, especially if we didn't really have someone to teach us how to be fathers. I'm finding that being a dad is a really hard job, and I don't mean just when I want to do something that my kids don't want to do. Fatherhood is a constant job. Even as I'm attempting to type this, my daughter is digging in my wallet while yelling that she wants to watch Caillu. So much for time to write. Good luck out there and stay sane.

Schedules

It is just one of those days when nothing seems to go the right way. I was yelling at Julian while trying to get him ready for his Saturday, 8 am Little League game, Maya seemed to get in the way at every turn, Denise had her own set of things to deal with, and even the dogs got me mad. These kinds of days are terrible. I can wake up fine and with one small thing, BAM!, I turn into Monster Dad. Julian and I eventually left for his baseball game, and on the drive I realized that a very real part of my problem is that I feel like I'm contantly conforming my life to everyone else's schedule.

Of course I long for those carefree days when I could come and go, and do or not do based on my own desires. Honestly, what sane person doesn't occassionally long for those days? There's nothing wrong with it. Many of us miss certain parts of our youth, but that doesn't mean we will just get up and leave our current lives behind because we are momentarily dissatisfied. Still, it does mean that we really need to look at what our lives have become. First, it is important for me to remember that I freely chose to get married and adopt both of my children. Except for some small pieces of time, I have always wanted to be a husband and a father. In high school I would ponder marriage and fatherhood. As a young man I began looking at how my life was effected by my father's absence, and I vowed to never be that way with my own children. I also vowed to never cheat on my wife, and I have remained steadfastly faithful. Honestly, I'm no super sexy man with women chasing after me, so fidelity is a little easier for me than for others, but I don't think I could cheat because my conscience wouldn't let me. And, if I have that much time to give to some some other woman, shouldn't I be giving that time to my own wife and kids? Maya thinks she's attention starved, so I'm sure she would take that time; Julian can always use some more attention before he hits the point where he doesn't want to be around his parents at all, and Denise might drop dead if I actually arranged date night all on my own. I know, I still have some work to do. Second, it is important to remember that I love my family and owe much of who I am to their presence in my life. I've finished college, earned my master's degree and a teaching credential, got a full-time job as a professor, and I'm looking into doctoral programs. As much as I would like to believe I could have done all that on my own, I would just be lying to myself. Denise pushed me to finish school and follow my dreams. My kids give me tons of reasons to excel at my job, and even though dropping them off at school and picking them up can be a pain sometimes, I can do it because of my job. I don't remember my dad taking me to school or dropping me off, but my kids will remember our mornings and afternoons together. I sure hope they have fond memories, at least. Third, I must realize that I have my own unique perspective that my wife will quickly rebut with her unique perspective and make me feel like I am the most selfish person in the world and I don't deserve to breathe the same air as her. She doesn't do it intentionally, it's just the way I interpret what and how she says stuff when I feel like this. Trust me, Denise is amazing, but whenever I get into my selfish mode, she brings me back to reality rather quickly by pointing out all the things I didn't consider. This is okay, I guess, but sometimes I just want to be selfish and do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Sometimes I even want to do things my way, which doesn't seem to happen very often either, but that's just my point of view. I'm sure there's another perspective out there to help me realize what I'm not considering.

Now back to the schedules. I hate them, but I need them. Take this moment into account, I'm typing away, trying to take in some "me" time, but my son is in desparate need of attention, there is a bunch of stuff sitting in the garage waiting to be returned to Home Depot, and I need to go buy a new refrigerator ASAP. It's Saturday morning and I cannot even relax. None of can. Dads, sorry to break it to you but I don't think it's going to get any better, either. Well, Julian wants apple juice. Bye bye to "me" time...


We all are dependent upon someone else's schedule, but sometimes I feel like my whole life is being dictated by the needs and desires of everyone but me. And you know what? It is.

Sleep

There are few things in the world better than a good night sleep, and with my children a full and restful night is rare. So waking up this morning at 6 am was very nice. Of course, I woke up at 4 o'clock like normal, but I got back to sleep and feel so much better than I have in days.

Both of my kids still wake up almost every night. Maya cries out for milk or says there are bugs in her bed. Sure, she's only three years old, but my goodness it is so annoying to deal with that on a nightly basis. On Monday night she woke up about 4:45, crawled in bed on mom's side and proceeded to start talking. After 10 minutes or so, I took her back to her bed where she asked me to lay down with her. "No problem," I thought, "she'll fall asleep pretty soon." Boy was I wrong. She decided it was party time and there was no sleep for anyone after 5:30. Even Julian woke up, and that boy definitely needs his sleep. It was comforting when he began waking up and crawling in bed with me between 4:15 and 4:30 a few years ago because my mother passed away at 4:25 in the morning. When he began doing that af few days after my mom died I took it as a sign that she was still there, that her spirit somehow became part of him and that was her way of comforting me. Scientifically, I know that's improbably; plus, I don't even believe in religion, but the whole idea was still comforting. After a couple years of this, however, it did get annoying. That too, I attribute to my mother. Like many moms, she just didn't quite know when to stop. It seems that the same is true of children, and as much as I try to remember that when I am old, these days will be looked upon with a sense of wonderful nostalgia, but for now I just want to keep getting some good sleep two, maybe three nights a week. Is that too much to ask? I beg of you, my beautiful, wonderful children, is that too much to ask at 3:30 in the morning.

Good night Little Bear. Good night Little Bird. Sleep tight. For the love of eveything good in this world, please sleep tight. Please, sleep through the night.

First Reflection

I've been wanting to do this for a long time, but I've been afraid because I wonder what my children will think one day if they ever read this. I wonder what people who read this might think of me as a father, so should I use my real name? Do I write it in anonymity? Well, I've decided to just write. I don't even know if I'll invite anyone to read along because it could become too personal, and we all know that we often create different personalities depending on the private or public nature of a situation.
Still, I don't think its far-fetched to say that most dads, and probably mos moms, doubt themselves on a regular basis. Men just might not admit it as much to each other and the world. We're guys. We don't like admitting we're wrong. If we go to the doctor, it's because something is wrong. We don't ask directions because then we must be lost. We don't read parenting books because then we admit that we don't know what we're doing. We don't even like to read directions because we have this innate belief that we are just supposed to know how to do things, and it sucks to admit when we just don't know or just don't have the answers.
Well, I barely know a thing about being a good father to my two children, Julian and Maya, but I try. And I'm not so good at being a husband sometimes to my wife, Denise, either. I won't be fooled by those small gestures of, " Oh, you're such a good dad," or "You're such a good husband," fool me. I haven't got a clue what I'm doing most of the time.
I'm sure I will blabber tons of nonsense on this thing, and I'm sure to contradict myself plenty of times as well. Maybe that's the nature of the beast called life. Surely, it's the nature of fatherhood.