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.

1

I don't remember the exact date or exactly how old I was, but sometime in my mid-thirties all of the music on the radio began to have the same sound. It was as if static had married the banging of tin and the unmistakable whining of a five year old girl who just has to have a pony. I was annoyed, so I shut it off for a while and drove in silence.

Before I became a father, I had big plans. Most of us did. Even when the kids were little the plans stayed big. I was going to earn my Ph.D, I was going to work at a big university and I was going to become the chair of the English department. I was going to make higher education more appealing for those who are traditionally left out. I was going to write books of poetry and novels. I was going to write books about history. I was going to write curriculum. I was going to paint and draw to engage people's minds. I was going to change the world.

Then one day I realized that I was tired. I realized that wanting to do all of those things while trying to maintain a family is plain exhausting. So, for better or worse, I stopped wanting them and refocused on other things like reading a piece of the newspaper after the kiddos go to bed. I began seeing the wonderful opportunity to iron tomorrow's clothes somewhere between bath time and bed time. I took time to read books to my kids about baseball, farting dogs, and princesses.

Then I stopped worrying so much about those big dreams that didn't become reality, and noticed the big dreams that were a reality. My wife and kids love me. My dogs love me. The cat...well the cat wants me to feed him. Sometimes my students hate me, but sometimes they like me, too.

And I am changing the world, its yust happening a little different than I thought.