Bad father

Sometimes the days become difficult to navigate. Some days are just not meant for me to wake up and get out of bed, but I do it anyway. You know which days I'm talking about. Those are the days when I am a grumpy man. Those are the days when I drink too much and yell like a madman.
No apology will ever make up for such ludicrous behavior.

Understand

You know, I really want my kids to understand that I wasn't some sort of fucking idiot. I wasn't that selfish. I didn't hate the world. I sure didn't hate them. But I am disturbed at times. I have moments of doubt, pain, shame, and self-doubt. I am human.
Unfortunately, I also have the unreasonable desire to kill myself. I try to put that away in places that cannot surface, but like any snake it surfaces. I also don't want to die. That is quite the dichotomy, isn't it.
I don't know what will be passed along to you, but please know that I love you and your mother very much, and the only reason for my absence is to protect you from myself.

Parenthood

You will experience the most wondrous victories and the most crushing defeats as a parent. Sometimes you will have them in the same day, or even in the same hour. Still, nothing fills the heart with pure love as when a child climbs into your lap, snuggles into your body, and says, "I love you." nothing compares to that; it is in a special category that few things can compare to.

Perfect

For most of my life, especially as a child and young man, I never even imagined that I could have the stereotypical perfect American life. That part of the American Dream was just too far out of reach. Now that I do have some pieces I it such a the house, the family, and the good job I find myself annoyed with the details that parent it all from being perfect. It is silly, but maybe it is human nature to truly want it all. From having so little, I now have so much, and it is disconcerting that I am not content.

Drop off at school

I wonder if my mother had the same empty feeling I have when I drop Julian off at school. It is really difficult to explain the drop in my stomach, the sadness in my heart, and the wondering and worry in my mind. I hope he is okay. I hope he has a happy day and no one picks on him. Maybe I only wonder these things because I cannot ask her. Maybe I hope that she did feel the same as I do.

Depression

A couple years ago I almost lost a horrendous battle with depression. For a long time I figured those deep blues came from my mom's death, but now that I have had time to look back with a clearer mind, it seems that the real catalyst was coming to grips with my son's lifelong journey as an autistic. I'll admit, my depression stemmed from selfishness. I realized that there was a distinct reality that we would never send him off to college, he might never marry or have children, and my own stereotypical desires for fatherhood were instantly dashed away. So I mourned for myself. I wallowed in my own self pity. And through the process, I learned more about being a father than I could have ever imagined.

Thursday on Summer Vacation

Julian woke up first a little before 7 o'clock, and then he crawled in bed between us and got under the covers. It was really great because he was smiling and talking his talk. A little while later, Maya woke up and crawled into to bed, too. She laid next to me, snuggled up with her hear half on my chest. Then I had coffee, the kids ate, we ate, Kassie got up an came down stairs, I loaded the bikes into the truck, and we left to take Maya to dance class. Julian stayed with Kassie and Jewel; there are definite advantages to having the older cousins come visit. Denise and I rode around Mission Bay, came home, went to eat at the Olive Garden in the Chula Vista Mall. Julian and I didn't eat much so we came home so I can do yard work before the Marmions come over for a barbecue. What I really want to do is go to Stone Brewing in South Park to fill my growler with something good to share with Colm, but I don't know if I'll have time. For now I just need to cut the grass.
This is the minutia of summer vacation. It isn't spectacular, but it is nice either way. This is also the minutia of life and parenthood; again it is much nicer than any alternative I can think of.

Things I Learn from my Children

1. If I leave trash somewhere, it eventually goes away.
2. When I really want something, it is best to be persistent, regardless of who you might upset.
3. No one likes waking up early for work or school, but since we shouldn't waste time we should also wake up at the crack of dawn on weekends, and especially during vacations.
4. Just because a child wants to go to a restaurant doesn't mean he will eat.

Dalai Lama

Last week I went to see the 14th Dalai Lama at San Diego State University where he spoke about compassion. He specifically talked about compassion toward our children in that it is more important for our children to be happy than sad. It is better for our children to laugh than to cry. This might spin obvious, but when it was stated in this way, I began to think about it a lot. I began to be more mindful of my actions toward the kids, and I came to realize that it is more difficult than one might imagine because there are so many things that complicate a day. One small incident at work can completely change my attitude toward everything, including my children. When that happens, it is important to be mindful of making my children happy. It can be a real test to take both kids into a grocery store and walk out just as relaxed as when we walked in. Parents know what I'm saying. It is difficult to be mindfully happy and compassionate. The old man with the smart words has given me something honest to work toward: making my children more happy. And that task is more difficult in practice than it seems on paper.

Bad husband

I hate it when I feel like a bad husband, and I feel like one now. I don't even know what I did wrong, but apparently it isn't any good.

Snow

Being up here in Big Bear with the snow coming down so gently, but relentlessly, forces me to remember my early childhood in Wisconsin. I remember the excitement of the first snow. When I was in the first grade at some nameless school, I remember going out to recess on a clear, crisp morning. I stood in the son, playing tether ball. My hands stung like everyone else's, but it was freezing cold and I just knew the first snow was about to come. It was probably October of 1977, but no matter how hard I try I cannot remember the first snow. I remember cold. I remember slushy, grey days. I remember arguments and violence. I remember clear, cold days where the puddles on the playground were sheathed with a thin coat of ice. The sunlight playing upon the irregularities of water puddles unexpectedly frozen overnight, and the next morning, school children would run across the asphalt without so much as a tiny recognition of the change in seasons. Not me, though. I saw how everything was able to change in a instant. I didn't have the words to express my newfound understanding, but I knew. I knew that the air turned cold and that winter was on its way. I knew that the beautiful snow would cover the ground; that my mom's hands would grow cold and hurt; that we would move (like always did); that the snow would come; that I, too, would grow cold.
So now I stand here, as a man, looking at the snow ; taking pictures of the snow that I send to my father as a personal revelation that I now accept that I was once a child who lived I. A snow-driven land thousands of miles from the place I rediscovered the truth about snow for the first time.

Old house

You meet a lot of ghosts when you return to an old house

The kids have been waking up at normal time for two weeks. Now that school has started, they decide to sleep in. "I'm tired," they say. Really, your mother and I have been tired since vacation started, and now you decide to sleep in. Hmmm.

In the grand scheme of things, we really must recognize even the smallest pieces of good fortune. It's not that I was stuck babysitting my kids this morning. It isn't babysitting if they are my kids. I was watching them, for part of the time, at least. I was hanging out with them for part of the time. I was playing with them for part of the time. And that is where the wonderful piece happens. If I wouldn't have had s great morning with Julian, then I might have been really, really annoyed when he became stuck toward the top of a rock climbing wall. Of course I shouldn't be annoyed at that, but he's climbed rock walls a few times before without ant problem, but today wasn't that day. Today, he woke up before 5:30 ant grandma and papa's house. He chased the cats. He didn't really eat breakfast. We went for a cruise around Madera , which isn't very big, and finally ended up at Walmart and Starbucks all before 10:30. Now Madera is home away from home, but it's not home. It's where my wife grew up, but even she has been gone so long that many things have changed. Anyway, Julian got stuck up about two-thirds up the rock climbing wall, and without giving it a second thought, I just asked to go up and help get him down. I have Nieves been on a rock climbing wall, but it was okay. Ilittle by little he came down. He moved his hand from the blue rock to the red rock, just like I showed him. I looked into his eyes and saw fear. I saw the worst thing a parent can see when your child has to actually move his hand from the blue rock to the red rock himself. That paralyzingly fear is beyond anything we ever want to deal with. That moment when your child says," I can't do it," is alarming. Fortunately, I was able to climb the wall and help Julian down. An hour later when Maya freaked out and got stuck on the bumper boats, there was almost nothing we could do. She was on her own and so afraid that she almost jumped into the water to get away, but she didn't. Her cousin Jenna helped push her to safety. At least when we could do very little, she has someone nearby to make the seemingly impossible an actual reality..

Something that really irks me is when people hide behind false representations of open-mindedness, and later use ignorance to sway others because it is easy.

Note to self:Words

Note to Self: although chingado and motherfucker are two of my favorite words, I probably shouldn't say them around the kids too much.

When my son goes to bed, he's generally so adorable, but he wakes up a monster.

When one of my children is being annoying, the other one must honestly believe that it is her job to be even more annoying.

After my mom's third divorce when I was fourteen, she would often wake up between three and four in the morning to drink coffee and write, much like I do now. She definitely wrote letters, but I suppose she also wrote just to get he thoughts out, and it's a shame that those stacks of yellow notepads are long gone, probably ripped apart and hurried in a landfill somewhere. Maybe that is a fitting metaphor for her state of being back then. Sometimes I would wake up and sit with her, which I am sure she enjoyed; but what she really wanted was to sit alone with her thoughts in silence. Early morning is the only time we often have to be awake in quiet before the chaotic clanging of the day overtakes our senses and drowns out the small noises we forget or are unable to hear. Sometimes, like this morning, I will lay awake in bed just listening to the sounds of my dogs rustling in their sleep, the binary crunch of the cable box, and the sound of early commuters zooming down H Street toward the 805. Still, what I enjoy listening to the most is the sound of Denise's breathing while she slumbers under the warm blankets. There is no sound more beautiful than my wife drifting between states of sleep, right next to me but off in some other universe, some other plane of consciousness that she will soon return from. That is the sound of peace. That is the feeling of comfort that most people wish they had. It is just one more reminder of how luck I am.

Regardless of how many time I try to teach the kids that Sunday morning is the perfect time to hibernate, they just don't get it. Maybe one day they will.

There are few things in this world as precious as sleep; just ask any parent. And if, by chance you get a couple consecutive nights of drop dead sleep, then it's like winning the lottery or being invited to join a special club where the world is just a happier, more fulfilling place.

I was just in a conversation about younger days where I jumped up and greeted the memory of cocaine like a close friend I hadn't see in 20 years. In one way I can say, "boy, I'm lucky to have survived those days when so many others didn't." and then I remember that I am a father and all I can think is that I hope my own children never do the stupid things I did.

Why is it that almost every single morning starts off in chaos. The five year old is antagonizing her older brother. Julian is running through the house screaming and playing with door handles. They both chase the cat. And the common denominator is the SCREAMING. Anyone who says that hearing children running an screaming is just so joyful obviously has not had the pleasure of hearing it every morning for the past few years.

Sometimes, when everyone is fast asleep, I lay here and wonder if my family is truly happy. I realize that life can be tough for many reasons, and the more aware we become, the more troubling it can be, too. I just hope that they are happy. They have made my life so wonderful. I just want to do the same for them.