I just adore my wife! And we’re going out on a date tonight!
She and I are going on a date tonight, and I’m just giddy! We’ve been married almost 3 ½ years, but I’m still giddy about going on a date with her. I feel just like I felt in high school when we would go out—nervously excited about being with her. I can’t wait! My breathing is a little faster, my heart rate is a little livelier. There’s a noticeable spring in my step. I dig her so much!
I don’t believe I’ve felt this way with anyone else. In my memory, there was a resignation about being with somebody else. Kinda like, “Well, let’s see, I’ve done all my laundry and I’m not really ready to go to bed yet, I finished the last level on Metal Gear Solid, and I don’t feel like getting drunk yet, so I guess I’ll give you a call and see what you’re doing and maybe we’ll hang, as long as being with you sounds more interesting than being alone and watching Glengarry Glenn Ross again… which is quite a good movie.”
My wife is far better than Glengarry Glenn Ross… which is quite a good movie. Much, much better!
She’s better than the original 1977 release of Star Wars.
She’s better than Rise of the Planet of the Apes.
She’s better than doing sketch comedy, improvising, writing a new show, and shooting a movie that I wrote, followed by editing that movie and showing it in a theatre filled with people who are completely entertained… combined!
She’s better than inspirational quotes from Gandhi, like “Be the change you want to see.”
She’s better than American citizens finding their voices of discontent and protest and marching against corrupt businesses and unethical political practices in their struggle to be treated as equals even in the face of those who aren’t aware they’re not being treated as equals yet and mock or don’t-support their actions as they persevere through even more hardships to stand for what they believe in. She’s better than all that!
She’s better than Rocky!
She’s better than Bridesmaids, The Daily Show, Dr. Demento, Hot Rod, I Love You, Man, Balls of Fury, and the Eddie Izzard special Dress to Kill… combined!
She’s better than if Michelle Pfeiffer, Sandra Bullock, Emma Stone, Paula Poundstone, Ellen Degeneres, Sarah Vowell, Janeane Garofalo, Marie Curie, Ororo Munroe (aka “Storm” from the X-Men) during her white-Mohawk phase, and that chick from Blade Trinity all got together and had a kid. She’s better than all of them AND their attempt-at-perfection baby!
She’s better than donuts!
She’s better than our window unit air conditioner!
She’s better than a three-day weekend!
She’s better than my iPod, my computer, and our PlayStation 3 combined!
And I get to go out with her tonight!
…I hope she lets me kiss her later…
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Would You Love Me If All My Skin Was Burned Off By Acid?
Have you ever dated somebody that you didn't really like? I have. I guess I did it because I was lonely. Or maybe I wanted to have sex and didn't know how to say the words, "I just want to have sex with you, but I have no interest in talking with you or getting to know you at all, so let's do it and then we'll never speak to each other again." It's a lot to pack into one sentence... maybe that's why I never got around to saying those words.
I feel like there were a lot of people I dated that I didn't really like. And there were things about them that I used to remember that annoyed me. As I think back on them, I can really only remember one thing specifically: I was late in meeting a girlfriend, and when I got there, she had her hands on her hips, huge scowl on her face, and with the most disgusted tone in my memory, she spat the sentence, "Where the hell have you been?!" I hadn't been late to meet her at any other time in our history, so this reaction to my 15-minute tardiness was extraordinarily over-the-top. That reaction told me that this was not the person I wanted to be with. It told me that she was not happy to see me after an unexpected absence, she wasn't concerned with my safety or well-being, and she wasn't relieved to see me arrive. She was more concerned with her momentary discomfort than with my presence, which should signal the end of the momentary discomfort. She was too self-centered for my tastes... or dramatic... or both. I ended things with her almost immediately. And looking back on it, I'm very, VERY glad I did and I believe I made the right decision. for so many reasons, the least of which might be that the aforementioned self-centered attitude does not fit with my personality, and is a pretty big irritant for me.
This is the only thing I can think of, though, about the people I've dated in the past, that was a source of irritation. I can't really remember any specifics about anyone else I dated. Not really. The further away from those experiences I get, the more they fade into a place in my memory... if that. I feel like I've forgotten a lot of those past girlfriends, what made us click, why we broke up. I don't really remember much about all of that. Why should I? It's even more useless knowledge than trivia. At least with trivia, I might win a bar bet or a free basket of cheese fries.
I bring all this up to mention my favorite subject: my wife. Specifically, there are aspects of her personality that she believes aren't assets. They aren't things that she really wants to change-- or maybe she feels like changing them is too difficult or impossible-- but she thinks, upon occasion, that these traits are things that I will find to be annoying or unattractive.
I had a whole new reinforcement of an already-established thought last night: I like everything she does and everything she is. I like it because it is her that I like. I like it because I want to like it, because I want to like her. And it's not hard for me to want that every day of my life. Even the things she finds unattractive, I like. Even the fact that she finds aspects of herself unattractive, I like. And I will like it just as much if she decides today that she totally accepts herself and doesn't find anything unattractive. If she's able to do that, I'll ask her how she did it and do it myself. Then I'll tell you how we both did it. And then I'll giggle at the previous sentence and how I said "we both did it".
Point is, I really like my wife. All of who she is, I dig it. When I'm around her, I feel powerful. I feel right. I feel loved and secure. I feel good. I feel good because she's there. My high school sweetheart. My first love. My best friend. My wife.
I really, really hope you're able to find somebody like that for your life. It feels absolutely wonderful.
I feel like there were a lot of people I dated that I didn't really like. And there were things about them that I used to remember that annoyed me. As I think back on them, I can really only remember one thing specifically: I was late in meeting a girlfriend, and when I got there, she had her hands on her hips, huge scowl on her face, and with the most disgusted tone in my memory, she spat the sentence, "Where the hell have you been?!" I hadn't been late to meet her at any other time in our history, so this reaction to my 15-minute tardiness was extraordinarily over-the-top. That reaction told me that this was not the person I wanted to be with. It told me that she was not happy to see me after an unexpected absence, she wasn't concerned with my safety or well-being, and she wasn't relieved to see me arrive. She was more concerned with her momentary discomfort than with my presence, which should signal the end of the momentary discomfort. She was too self-centered for my tastes... or dramatic... or both. I ended things with her almost immediately. And looking back on it, I'm very, VERY glad I did and I believe I made the right decision. for so many reasons, the least of which might be that the aforementioned self-centered attitude does not fit with my personality, and is a pretty big irritant for me.
This is the only thing I can think of, though, about the people I've dated in the past, that was a source of irritation. I can't really remember any specifics about anyone else I dated. Not really. The further away from those experiences I get, the more they fade into a place in my memory... if that. I feel like I've forgotten a lot of those past girlfriends, what made us click, why we broke up. I don't really remember much about all of that. Why should I? It's even more useless knowledge than trivia. At least with trivia, I might win a bar bet or a free basket of cheese fries.
I bring all this up to mention my favorite subject: my wife. Specifically, there are aspects of her personality that she believes aren't assets. They aren't things that she really wants to change-- or maybe she feels like changing them is too difficult or impossible-- but she thinks, upon occasion, that these traits are things that I will find to be annoying or unattractive.
I had a whole new reinforcement of an already-established thought last night: I like everything she does and everything she is. I like it because it is her that I like. I like it because I want to like it, because I want to like her. And it's not hard for me to want that every day of my life. Even the things she finds unattractive, I like. Even the fact that she finds aspects of herself unattractive, I like. And I will like it just as much if she decides today that she totally accepts herself and doesn't find anything unattractive. If she's able to do that, I'll ask her how she did it and do it myself. Then I'll tell you how we both did it. And then I'll giggle at the previous sentence and how I said "we both did it".
Point is, I really like my wife. All of who she is, I dig it. When I'm around her, I feel powerful. I feel right. I feel loved and secure. I feel good. I feel good because she's there. My high school sweetheart. My first love. My best friend. My wife.
I really, really hope you're able to find somebody like that for your life. It feels absolutely wonderful.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Sublime Subsides
sliding out
on this mental ice
my mind collides
with you
shocking out
with your wicked slice
sublime subsides
with you
i hate you
in every possible way
and in every possible way
i don't want
stopping out
with your tightened grip
shaken station
with you
propping out
all the power give
broken faith
in you
i hate you
in every possible way
and in every possible way
i don't want
clicking and ticking
the clock always licking
theses wounds just don't heal fast enough
open reopen
whenever I hope in
a future where you're less than dust
i hate you
in every possible way
and in every possible way
i don't want to
i don't want you
on this mental ice
my mind collides
with you
shocking out
with your wicked slice
sublime subsides
with you
i hate you
in every possible way
and in every possible way
i don't want
stopping out
with your tightened grip
shaken station
with you
propping out
all the power give
broken faith
in you
i hate you
in every possible way
and in every possible way
i don't want
clicking and ticking
the clock always licking
theses wounds just don't heal fast enough
open reopen
whenever I hope in
a future where you're less than dust
i hate you
in every possible way
and in every possible way
i don't want to
i don't want you
She Could Drink Me Under The Table
Here's what I'm reading about today:
A woman drinks so much alcohol, she starts to shake. She has a seizure, vomits, and gets rushed to the hospital. At the hospital, they give her water and a few mild medications to help prevent more seizures as her body gets rid of the alcohol. She's released the next day, perfectly fine. This behavior continues once a month for several months (more than 7). During her alcohol-induced seizures-- which are 100% preventable as long as she does not drink alcohol-- she will often bite off parts of her tongue or hit her head to the point of it bleeding. When the woman drinks, she tries to kill herself. Once, she even cut her own wrists. Another time, she tried to overdose on pills. When she sobers up at the hospital, she is grateful for the help given to her in saving her life and she states she never actually wanted to kill herself.
She is 37 years old.
I'm older than that, and I like to drink. But I've never even thrown up because I've had too much to drink, let alone had a seizure. I've passed out a couple of times, but never bitten off chunks of my tongue because my body couldn't take any more alcohol and seized up. It takes a sizable commitment to drink like that. And that kind of commitment is something I just don't understand.
It also renews my bafflement about why pot is illegal.
As soon as I can, I'm moving out of America. We're all stupid here.
A woman drinks so much alcohol, she starts to shake. She has a seizure, vomits, and gets rushed to the hospital. At the hospital, they give her water and a few mild medications to help prevent more seizures as her body gets rid of the alcohol. She's released the next day, perfectly fine. This behavior continues once a month for several months (more than 7). During her alcohol-induced seizures-- which are 100% preventable as long as she does not drink alcohol-- she will often bite off parts of her tongue or hit her head to the point of it bleeding. When the woman drinks, she tries to kill herself. Once, she even cut her own wrists. Another time, she tried to overdose on pills. When she sobers up at the hospital, she is grateful for the help given to her in saving her life and she states she never actually wanted to kill herself.
She is 37 years old.
I'm older than that, and I like to drink. But I've never even thrown up because I've had too much to drink, let alone had a seizure. I've passed out a couple of times, but never bitten off chunks of my tongue because my body couldn't take any more alcohol and seized up. It takes a sizable commitment to drink like that. And that kind of commitment is something I just don't understand.
It also renews my bafflement about why pot is illegal.
As soon as I can, I'm moving out of America. We're all stupid here.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
(Not) Naming The Kitten
My wife just got a kitten recently.
She hasn't named him yet because everyone is pressuring her to name the kitten.
So EVERYBODY JUST BACK THE FUCK OFF!
Quit trying to help by offering up names or suggestions or advice. Because it's not helping.
It's making her stall longer.
She is my wife, after all, which means she knows how to deal with bull-headed people.
She's gonna dig her heels in until everybody leaves her the fuck alone.
So back off, already.
Don't look at her.
Don't talk to her.
Do not make eye contact with the woman until she comes out of the rumpass room with an official name for this kitten.
You may go back to what you were doing.
Nothing to see here.
She hasn't named him yet because everyone is pressuring her to name the kitten.
So EVERYBODY JUST BACK THE FUCK OFF!
Quit trying to help by offering up names or suggestions or advice. Because it's not helping.
It's making her stall longer.
She is my wife, after all, which means she knows how to deal with bull-headed people.
She's gonna dig her heels in until everybody leaves her the fuck alone.
So back off, already.
Don't look at her.
Don't talk to her.
Do not make eye contact with the woman until she comes out of the rumpass room with an official name for this kitten.
You may go back to what you were doing.
Nothing to see here.
What Do You Find Interesting?
Have you ever, like, not showered for several days.
And you build up this odor that emanates from your crotchal region.
And then you go to work, and you sit in your chair, and you smell that odor.
Reminds you of sweat socks and depression.
Happy Wednesday.
And you build up this odor that emanates from your crotchal region.
And then you go to work, and you sit in your chair, and you smell that odor.
Reminds you of sweat socks and depression.
And the really awful thing about it is that smelling that smell is significantly more interesting to you than the job you're supposed to be doing?
That's my day today.Happy Wednesday.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Delicious Cottage Cheese
11-Year-Old On My Mind
My 11-year-old has a thought in his head that he's going to go to college on a full-ride scholarship because of his prowess as a football player. He has this thought because his father is perpetuating it.
I was concerned about this distortion of reality before I actually researched it. After researching it, and coming to read that less than 2% of male college football players get scholarships, and most of those aren't full rides, it made me even more concerned. Even if he was the best player on the field, I would still encourage him to focus more on academics, where the majority of college scholarship money is located, rather than banking on a lottery win.
And how do I mention any of this to him without killing his dream of going to college on a football scholarship?
And do I need to tell him that he's not a very good player right now, so if he was to get any kind of scholarship right now, it probably would be a scholarship to leave the field rather than be on it?
Maybe I should allow time to do it's thing.
I don't bring any of these things to his attention, because, ultimately, they don't matter. There are people who win the lottery. Even people who win the jackpot. There are people who get full-ride football scholarships, I'm sure. I'll bet that some of them weren't good when they were 11. Maybe they worked hard to get where they ended up. Maybe they didn't. His happiness is really my only goal. And I'm certainly not helping that goal by telling him that he's got an unrealistic dream or making him feel like I don't support his desires to go to college on a football scholarship. I've got 7 more years before I have to worry about his chances of getting a football scholarship to college. I don't have to say anything today. Or tomorrow. Maybe Thursday, at the very soonest, I would think.
When he finds out that the things he's learning from his father are making his life significantly harder, it's going to be a very hard and painful lesson. I went thought a similar revelation, and I do not envy his journey. There are parts of me that want to spare him this journey. And there are other parts of me that know his journey is different from my own, and therefore, it is not the same journey I went through, no matter how many similarities there are.
I really love my family and want only good things for them. And some days, that is harder than others.
I was concerned about this distortion of reality before I actually researched it. After researching it, and coming to read that less than 2% of male college football players get scholarships, and most of those aren't full rides, it made me even more concerned. Even if he was the best player on the field, I would still encourage him to focus more on academics, where the majority of college scholarship money is located, rather than banking on a lottery win.
And how do I mention any of this to him without killing his dream of going to college on a football scholarship?
And do I need to tell him that he's not a very good player right now, so if he was to get any kind of scholarship right now, it probably would be a scholarship to leave the field rather than be on it?
Maybe I should allow time to do it's thing.
I don't bring any of these things to his attention, because, ultimately, they don't matter. There are people who win the lottery. Even people who win the jackpot. There are people who get full-ride football scholarships, I'm sure. I'll bet that some of them weren't good when they were 11. Maybe they worked hard to get where they ended up. Maybe they didn't. His happiness is really my only goal. And I'm certainly not helping that goal by telling him that he's got an unrealistic dream or making him feel like I don't support his desires to go to college on a football scholarship. I've got 7 more years before I have to worry about his chances of getting a football scholarship to college. I don't have to say anything today. Or tomorrow. Maybe Thursday, at the very soonest, I would think.
When he finds out that the things he's learning from his father are making his life significantly harder, it's going to be a very hard and painful lesson. I went thought a similar revelation, and I do not envy his journey. There are parts of me that want to spare him this journey. And there are other parts of me that know his journey is different from my own, and therefore, it is not the same journey I went through, no matter how many similarities there are.
I really love my family and want only good things for them. And some days, that is harder than others.
Friday, January 6, 2012
A Fun Thought About My Visiting Friend
I have a good friend who is coming to visit me soon. I haven't seen him since 2006.
And I just got this flash that made me smile great big and made me even more excited to see him:
I thought about him, my wife and myself sitting around and talking and having a beer and laughing and smiling with each other, and we're all having fun, and the thought that went through my head was, "I get to show off my wife to him!" And I got super excited because she's so cool and fun and great, and I certainly didn't marry her because of how she increases my status... but it's really great to have her by my side and be able to brag about how I got her to marry me, and then we will all laugh and drink our beers and smile and have fun.
What a nice thought.
It will be even nicer when it's a reality!
And I just got this flash that made me smile great big and made me even more excited to see him:
I thought about him, my wife and myself sitting around and talking and having a beer and laughing and smiling with each other, and we're all having fun, and the thought that went through my head was, "I get to show off my wife to him!" And I got super excited because she's so cool and fun and great, and I certainly didn't marry her because of how she increases my status... but it's really great to have her by my side and be able to brag about how I got her to marry me, and then we will all laugh and drink our beers and smile and have fun.
What a nice thought.
It will be even nicer when it's a reality!
Craisins
I fucking hate craisins!
I don't mean I hate dried cranberries, sometimes referred to as "craisins" and registered as a trademarked word from the Ocean Spray company. I mean I hate the fucking word!
And I hate the people who use the fucking word even more than I hate the fucking word!
What kind of a pretentious fuck are you to call it a craisin?! You pretentious FUCK! It's a stupid, fruity word, and you're a stupid, fruity fuck for using it! Especially since you come over the PA at my office and tell me that I can buy a salad with fuckin' craisins on it! I might have bought a salad from you prior to you polluting the air with your fuckery, but now you've fucked the whole fuck, so FUCK your fucking craisins and FUCK YOU!
You-- you useless fuck using the word "craisin" over my PA--
You're a dried up fuck, so you're a "fraisin"!
You're a dried up shit, so you're a "shraisin"!
You're a dried up cunt, so you're a "craisin"! Wait! NO!!!
...wait a minute...
I might have just cured myself.
Every time that snooty little bitch comes over the PA and tells me about her delicious salad that she's selling in the break room that has craisins on it...
I'm going to imagine that, instead of dried, little raisins...
The salad has dried, little cunts on it.
Yeah...
That's better...
Pruny little cunts.
Cunts that have been in the swimming pool too long.
Tiny, bite-sized cunts.
Delicately shaved and dried and placed on her salads.
...ahhhhhhhhhhh...
I feel much better now.
Thank you.
I don't mean I hate dried cranberries, sometimes referred to as "craisins" and registered as a trademarked word from the Ocean Spray company. I mean I hate the fucking word!
And I hate the people who use the fucking word even more than I hate the fucking word!
What kind of a pretentious fuck are you to call it a craisin?! You pretentious FUCK! It's a stupid, fruity word, and you're a stupid, fruity fuck for using it! Especially since you come over the PA at my office and tell me that I can buy a salad with fuckin' craisins on it! I might have bought a salad from you prior to you polluting the air with your fuckery, but now you've fucked the whole fuck, so FUCK your fucking craisins and FUCK YOU!
You-- you useless fuck using the word "craisin" over my PA--
You're a dried up fuck, so you're a "fraisin"!
You're a dried up shit, so you're a "shraisin"!
You're a dried up cunt, so you're a "craisin"! Wait! NO!!!
...wait a minute...
I might have just cured myself.
Every time that snooty little bitch comes over the PA and tells me about her delicious salad that she's selling in the break room that has craisins on it...
I'm going to imagine that, instead of dried, little raisins...
The salad has dried, little cunts on it.
Yeah...
That's better...
Pruny little cunts.
Cunts that have been in the swimming pool too long.
Tiny, bite-sized cunts.
Delicately shaved and dried and placed on her salads.
...ahhhhhhhhhhh...
I feel much better now.
Thank you.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
I Am Being The Change I Want To See
My phone rings. The Woman From California on the other end sounds tearful.
"I just received this letter from your office. It says that I need to fill out the form and send or fax it in to you. I'm a little confused and freaking out. What should I do?!"
...um... what?
So these are the words I tell her, verbatim:
"What you'll want to do is fill out the form in front of you. Then fax it to us. Or send it in the mail. Does that make sense?"
That made sense to her, and she hung up the phone, relieved.
I'm trying really hard not to be judgmental. It's super hard right now.
Jokes about public schooling, or the chemical compounds found in the California water supply, or images of non-branching family trees-- all of them race through my head.
And then I remember I must be the change I want to see in the world.
And I'm grateful that I didn't call this woman a stupid, ignorant mindless mistake made in the backseat of a Ford Pinto on a post-drunken Friday morning at 3AM following the last round from "Spurts" Western Bar and Grill's Thirsty Thursday/Wet T-Shirt and Roofie competition.
I'm really glad I took the high-road with this one.
Gandhi would be proud of me.
Incidentally, where else but here are you going to be able to find Gandhi and wet t-shirt competitions referenced at the same time?? You're welcome!
"I just received this letter from your office. It says that I need to fill out the form and send or fax it in to you. I'm a little confused and freaking out. What should I do?!"
...um... what?
So these are the words I tell her, verbatim:
"What you'll want to do is fill out the form in front of you. Then fax it to us. Or send it in the mail. Does that make sense?"
That made sense to her, and she hung up the phone, relieved.
I'm trying really hard not to be judgmental. It's super hard right now.
Jokes about public schooling, or the chemical compounds found in the California water supply, or images of non-branching family trees-- all of them race through my head.
And then I remember I must be the change I want to see in the world.
And I'm grateful that I didn't call this woman a stupid, ignorant mindless mistake made in the backseat of a Ford Pinto on a post-drunken Friday morning at 3AM following the last round from "Spurts" Western Bar and Grill's Thirsty Thursday/Wet T-Shirt and Roofie competition.
I'm really glad I took the high-road with this one.
Gandhi would be proud of me.
Incidentally, where else but here are you going to be able to find Gandhi and wet t-shirt competitions referenced at the same time?? You're welcome!
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
To My Wife
I just turned on my phone and saw your smiling face, and you made me smile.
A rush of warm filled my chest.
I'm so in love with you.
You make me feel so lucky.
A rush of warm filled my chest.
I'm so in love with you.
You make me feel so lucky.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Pointless Trips
My wife's ex-husband spoke with her about their children's Christmas break. Both boys were present for the conversation.
"They're supposed to come back to my house on Monday night," he said to her. "And then they're supposed to go back to you on Thursday. If you want to, we could flip-flop weekends, and they could stay with you through Thursday night. That way, they won't have to pack up and move all their stuff on Monday night, just to bring it back 2 days later."
My wife asked her boys.
They thought that was a good idea.
My wife agreed to this.
Then...
Without reason, he took it back.
She asked why.
He said he didn't have to explain himself.
He didn't tell the boys that he was changing his mind.
He didn't tell the boys why he was changing his mind.
And after a few emails, it was still unclear as to why he offered and then rescinded the offer.
He never told anyone anything.
So the boys are, understandably, grumpy as they pack up their stuff on Monday night.
They don't understand why they are being moved from one house to another house when they had been told they wouldn't have to do that.
They are wondering why they aren't consulted about their moves.
They are wondering. Period.
And there are no answers anyone can give them, except to tell them that their father does not explain himself and has no reason for acting the way he acts.
Of course, we don't say this out loud.
But they know it.
Because it's as obvious as the seasons.
Nobody has to tell you when it's winter.
If there's snow on the ground, you pretty much figure it out.
So our 15-year old is tying his shoes.
A year ago, he wasn't able to tie his shoes.
Now he does this willingly, because he's got cool boots he likes wearing.
And he's tying his shoes and grumping.
"I don't know why we have to leave here," he grumps, gingerly making the bunny ears with the fingers of somebody who knows what they're doing but don't feel confident in doing it without thinking about it yet. "This is stupid. I mean, we're leaving here today and we're coming back in 2 days. I don't get it."
I can hear the frustration in his voice, and I long for that to go away.
I know how it feels to be frustrated.
I know how it feels to have questions needing to be answered, yet there are absolutely no answers anyone can give.
I know how it feels to live in that limbo of confusion and an endless well of questions.
And I know there's no way to explain that things will get better as time passes.
And I know there's no way to tell him that he will make peace with the confusion and questions.
I know there's nothing I can do to comfort him directly.
I can't give answers that will bring satisfaction.
And I struggle with wanting to make him feel better and having absolutely no way of doing so.
He continues to grump as his long fingers lankily and shakily pull the bunny ears around each other.
"This is the most pointless trip I've ever taken in my life!"
"You're still young," I quip playfully. "You're gonna have lots of pointless trips in your life."
And I see him look up at me and smile.
And I feel my shoulders relax.
And I realize I did it.
I did the best I could.
I cannot give you answers.
But I can give you peace in this moment.
That's why I love doing what I'm supposed to do.
I'm a performer.
I'm a funny-guy.
I may not cure your pains, but I can give you peace right now.
And his mind is off his troubles.
And we're laughing about how horrible it would be if there was a man who never made a pointed trip in his whole life. If every trip he made was a pointless trip, how horrible would that be. He would never get anything done! And he would always feel awful! And he laughs. And I laugh. And he relaxes. And he hugs me. And he leaves, smiling to the ground.
Somedays, I'm an OK parent.
I want to remember those days-- those days when I do good.
Those are the days I don't just do well, I do good.
Those days when I give smiles and laughs to those closest to me.
Somedays, I'm an OK parent.
"They're supposed to come back to my house on Monday night," he said to her. "And then they're supposed to go back to you on Thursday. If you want to, we could flip-flop weekends, and they could stay with you through Thursday night. That way, they won't have to pack up and move all their stuff on Monday night, just to bring it back 2 days later."
My wife asked her boys.
They thought that was a good idea.
My wife agreed to this.
Then...
Without reason, he took it back.
She asked why.
He said he didn't have to explain himself.
He didn't tell the boys that he was changing his mind.
He didn't tell the boys why he was changing his mind.
And after a few emails, it was still unclear as to why he offered and then rescinded the offer.
He never told anyone anything.
So the boys are, understandably, grumpy as they pack up their stuff on Monday night.
They don't understand why they are being moved from one house to another house when they had been told they wouldn't have to do that.
They are wondering why they aren't consulted about their moves.
They are wondering. Period.
And there are no answers anyone can give them, except to tell them that their father does not explain himself and has no reason for acting the way he acts.
Of course, we don't say this out loud.
But they know it.
Because it's as obvious as the seasons.
Nobody has to tell you when it's winter.
If there's snow on the ground, you pretty much figure it out.
So our 15-year old is tying his shoes.
A year ago, he wasn't able to tie his shoes.
Now he does this willingly, because he's got cool boots he likes wearing.
And he's tying his shoes and grumping.
"I don't know why we have to leave here," he grumps, gingerly making the bunny ears with the fingers of somebody who knows what they're doing but don't feel confident in doing it without thinking about it yet. "This is stupid. I mean, we're leaving here today and we're coming back in 2 days. I don't get it."
I can hear the frustration in his voice, and I long for that to go away.
I know how it feels to be frustrated.
I know how it feels to have questions needing to be answered, yet there are absolutely no answers anyone can give.
I know how it feels to live in that limbo of confusion and an endless well of questions.
And I know there's no way to explain that things will get better as time passes.
And I know there's no way to tell him that he will make peace with the confusion and questions.
I know there's nothing I can do to comfort him directly.
I can't give answers that will bring satisfaction.
And I struggle with wanting to make him feel better and having absolutely no way of doing so.
He continues to grump as his long fingers lankily and shakily pull the bunny ears around each other.
"This is the most pointless trip I've ever taken in my life!"
"You're still young," I quip playfully. "You're gonna have lots of pointless trips in your life."
And I see him look up at me and smile.
And I feel my shoulders relax.
And I realize I did it.
I did the best I could.
I cannot give you answers.
But I can give you peace in this moment.
That's why I love doing what I'm supposed to do.
I'm a performer.
I'm a funny-guy.
I may not cure your pains, but I can give you peace right now.
And his mind is off his troubles.
And we're laughing about how horrible it would be if there was a man who never made a pointed trip in his whole life. If every trip he made was a pointless trip, how horrible would that be. He would never get anything done! And he would always feel awful! And he laughs. And I laugh. And he relaxes. And he hugs me. And he leaves, smiling to the ground.
Somedays, I'm an OK parent.
I want to remember those days-- those days when I do good.
Those are the days I don't just do well, I do good.
Those days when I give smiles and laughs to those closest to me.
Somedays, I'm an OK parent.
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