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.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, May 3, 2010
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.
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.
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