sunday nights, monday mornings, and cake pop dreams

Last night felt like one of those Sunday nights from my childhood…

When home and family is so good and warm and comfortable...

That Monday feels like a cataclysm… just for taking that away.

The strange thing is

This weekend wasn’t particularly fun

in terms of dad type activities.

There was probably even more than the average amount of friction and frustration...

It was very much about running my children around

Girl. Scout. Cookies.

And getting semi - caught up on household stuff.

But it was full

And it was together

And the friction, while intense, was…

Navigable.

It felt like one of those Sunday nights from my childhood

Where back to school

Back to the slog

Was also back to apart

And back to the unknown

leaving the comfort of home and hearth

There’s a lot coming this week…

And the last few weeks have been pretty full.

I don’t see it slowing down…

Does anyone, ever?

Today we open up the ceiling to investigate the water damage in our entryway.

And Jens tenure file is submitted.

And the cookies need to get distributed

On top of all the usual madness.

This morning I woke up at 5am

Dreaming of cake pops.

I hate cake pops.

It was weird.

The first thing I remember in the dream is

That I was in a shop

Paying for cake pops

And the cashier noticed that my box of cake pops was torn open.

I paid anyway

But on further investigation I noticed that some of my cake pops were missing.

They seemed to be be individually wrapped.

So I went back to the cupboard/shelf where they were stocked and

There I discovered my missing pops…

So I added them to my box.

Another patron observed me adding cake pops to my box,

Which made me, of course, self conscious…

I think that act of awareness brought sentience in to the dream
and I thought… “This is weird… to dream about cake pops… I hate cake pops…

And it’s weirdly specific…”

The cake pops were pink and red and white with sprinkles also in those colors…

And the specificity of that seemed significant.

Or at least significant enough to take me out of the dream

And wake me up.

The mind is a strange thing.

Then I lay there

In bed

Thinking about my Monday

Playing that old game of whether or not to get up and start the day early...

In combat with the monkey mind.

Trying to make the most of this moment of stillness.

Laying there weighing the joys and benefits of the comfort of my bed…

And being beside Jen…

Her breathing and her warmth...
Against the list of concerns the monkey mind keeps running through;

The work - emails, prepping for meetings, the task list

The kitchen - the dishes, the lunches, the meal planning, the cleaning

The writing - getting the thoughts down

School board duties

Church committee duties

Girl Scout Cookies

Politics and our government…

Children activities

Tenure

Travel

On and on...

I take comfort I guess...

In the fact that I have received the gift of that moment to reflect.

And in the fact that....

While my weekend wasn’t a magical journey
filled exclusively with joy and fun and games…

It was full.

Full of togetherness...

Enough so that I am sad to say goodbye to my family and send them off this morning.

I’ll be happy for the quiet though.

february mondays...

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,

February mondays are the worst kind of mondays…

Everything outside is wet or frozen...

or both...

Or somewhere in between.

The car has started to smell like the inside of a boot…

And the boots have started to smell like something beyond words…

The weight of winter,

And of everything

Feels heavier on February mondays

I wake up 45 minutes before the alarm goes off

And lay there trying to decide where to start…

Shovel the slush in the driveway?

Clean the kitchen?

(chores that got ignored over a very wonderful but very full weekend)

Try to help the kids get started on the right morning path?

Or getting an early morning jump on the 54 new emails in the in-box?

Take stock in the home and the body;

The ails and issues in the body… the extra pounds, the random mysterious areas of soreness, and all the known quantities…

The ails and issues in the house...
The molding water damage,

The ice dams,

The cat box…

Resist the temptation to hide from the world and the cold and stay under the covers…

Resist the temptation to pick up the phone and escape
into a dreary a fix of the entertainment news...

And yet…

There are so many blessings...

The dishes and the driveway got left until today
because our family spent wonderful time together
supporting and delighting in each others accomplishments,
overcoming challenges and celebrating in and with our community.
And we have each other...
for good and bad.

Deer and bunny prints in the snow on the way to school

Inspire gleeful curiosity and imagination

And remind us of our larger community
And the quiet contribution of nature to our lives.

Time in the kindergarten classroom

Talking about our American presidents

Inspires thoughtful contemplation

And reminds us to how far we’ve come

And to be grateful for those who’ve set us on this path.

There is the weight of winter

and everything else...

And that's okay...

We find the light.

We find the light.

We can find the light.

Breakdown: 59 days.

Well friends, it finally came…

Been building for two days…

The breakdown…

7:35 am in the kitchen in the middle of the getting out the door for school chaos…

I lost it.

Tears.

The kids

Were in shock

Sort of

Honestly, I think they’d seen it coming too.

Catharsis.

The thing is, life is hard.

And yes it’s harder when your partner has been gone for 60 days

And you have ten more days before you get to see her again.

But life would be hard if she was here too…

It’s just hard.

Life-ing.

It’s messy.

The mess in the basement

The mess in the yard

The mess all over the living room and family room…

The mess at work.

Lets not even talk about the kitchen or the dining room or the bathrooms or the White House.

Life’s filled with stuff to do.

And damn, I know that’s a blessing, and there’s so much to be grateful for.

And I can even tell myself to be grateful for this time apart – absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.  And I certainly am grateful for the opportunities Jen has been able to pursue during her sabbatical, and all the ways these opportunities have nourished her.

But still, the Weight. Of. Life.

The weight of waking up each morning to do it all again.

So today I broke.

And it was good, and cathartic.

And my kids came to me and held me.

And I was open and honest to them.

I said I missed their mom, and I didn’t want to do it anymore.

And they were amazing.

They laughed at me, and cried with me and told me it would be okay.

And it will.

People have been doing this for thousands of years.

Waking up each day, to deal with all the weight in their hearts.

The weight of all the messes.

And now that kitten is racing through the house a black furry streak.

And I am drinking delicious coffee from a comfortable, comforting mug.

Getting my head right

For another day.

what's the opposite of fundamentalism? or what i learned from the shitty rake...

Back in October,

Maybe late September…

The presidential race was at an apex.

And I was thinking about fundamentalism

And stuff,

While raking leaves.

I was thinking how the work of fundamentalists

is to fight against reason.

To take

It away.

How they force those of us who aim toward reason

And moderation.

Into a corner.

We, if we don’t share their views,

Become fundamentalists

In their eyes.

And how,

 if we dig in against them.

They win…

They take

Our reason away from us.

And how does a reasonable, moderate

Who only wants to make space in the world for all of us

For all the people…

Who wants to celebrate our differences…

As well as what we have in common…

How does that person come to terms with

Someone who says

All we are is hate

Who says all we are is fear

Who says we will never be able to understand each other

Because we are too different?

There is no antonym for fundamentalism… that I can think of.

But I think found, for me a good counter...

a synonym, actually of fundamentalism – 

Essentialism...

My thought, at the time, 

Was that something about the word essentialism brings to mind commonness…
Our underlying essence...

What we share, to me, seems like a good place to start.

Li’l Chaos offered to help me rake…

I was glad for the help,

And proud of her choice.

She asked if she could use the good rake…

The rake I was using.

She asked so nicely, I was compelled to say yes.

Then I started thinking about taking and giving,

The difference between takers and givers.

And that there needs to be space for both in the world.

And how we shift roles...

Sometimes we’re givers,

Sometimes we’re takers.

Really what I was thinking was…

Sometimes you give up the good rake,

And you take the shitty rake,

Because that’s the best way to get the job done…

And because that’s what it takes to work together…

And because we all learn some things from that…

Li’l Chaos is reminded that asking nicely sometimes actually works.

I am reminded that making sacrifices can be a source of joy and grace.

And there are some jobs the shitty rake is perfectly suited for.

2/14/2016

Well…

This year

For Valentines day

Her gift was

Getting the kids to clean the play room

Without anyone yelling

Crying

Or breaking anything.

And letting her get away for a solid 5 hours to work on pre-tenure review documents

Romance.

We ate waffles at 7pm.

That Scooter cooked-

Dinner was mostly civil.

Zuzu was on the verge of meltdown… but managed to hold it together.

We all growled a little

At each other…

The arctic weather

Is a factor no doubt

Being house bound…

…we’ve never been huge on Valentines day…

Its strange how romance…

Becomes…

Something we have to make time for…

Where once it was reflex.

But it is not surprising that

Where I once spent the afternoon

Learning to play her a song

Or filling a shoebox

With cutout hearts

I now…

Take a pass…

There are times

Where it feels like a loss

Or a failure…

But,

Sort of like the scratches and dents in my wedding ring…

It kind of…

Now…

Just fits…

Another sex talk with Scooter and, grudgingly along for the ride, Squirt…

It's no coincidence these things happen when their mother is working, or shopping, or in whatever sense "away"

She rail roads them early on

That might be fear.

It might be foresight.

At any rate, much as I am challenged by them

I am always glad they happen,

And mostly feel like I give good… er… decent answers.

Earlier this month I got a vasectomy.

I am candid about it.

In fact I probably talk about it more than I should.

Tough shit.

It's good to talk about this stuff…

It's been a topic of conversation between my wife and I for several years…

And after buying the morning after pill twice in the past 18 months…

And an enlightening conversation about

Inaction on my part

Being another patriarchal act..

I scheduled the appointment.

Anyway that's all background.

The point is I had the surgery - I'll tell you about that another time.

And came home with a couple specimen bags to fill and return.

They have been sitting on the back of my toilet since - and have been the subject, not surprisingly…

Of much inquiry.

Well it's all been somewhat danced around until tonight.

But the Squirt straight up asked me tonight, "Dad, what are the specimen bags for?"

"Semen," I said, "Do you know what that is?"

"I do." said Scooter.

Squirt did not, so I told her.

She was fascinated and a little queasy…

Scooter chose this moment to draw the comparison to floral reproduction.

Then, as per her usual mode on any topic, but this one in particular,

Scooter began her inquisition;

"Have you guys had sex since your surgery?"

(this is where Jen would have stopped, no halted the conversation.)

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Once."

"How many times do you have it in… like… a month?"

"Mmm, hard to say, depends on the month, and what else is going on in our lives."

-pregnant pause while she tried to figure out how to phrase the next question-

"So… which do you prefer, standing up or laying down?"

"Laying down."

"Have you ever had it standing up?"

(And here is where I just was totally too candid… where I knew I should have stopped but… well I'm an idiot.)

"Not with your mother."

"WHAAAT, you've had sex with other people?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

And apparently that is my line.

That is where I said I was uncomfortable sharing any more personal information about me…

Scooter said at this point she thought about it a lot and was eager to experience it.

Without thinking I said

"Don't be…"

And then I knew I was going to have to drop some poetry to make my point…

"Why?"

"Well," I said, "I take that back, you be eager, you feel all the feelings you need to feel about it, you look forward to it, and explore your ideas and thoughts about it… but… you need to be very very careful before you do anything with anybody else about it…"

"Why?"

"Because it's complicated… because your sexuality and your mind and your heart all work together in sex, and because of that it can be really wonderful and magical, or, if it's bad, it can be really hard to recover from… it can break you in to a million pieces."

"How can it be bad?"

"Well… if it didn't feel like you thought it was going to feel… you might regret it… or if it's sex you don't want to have…"

"Isn't sex you don't want to have rape?"

"Yes you're right - and that really isn't the same as sex at all. You are absolutely right."

"There are a lot of wonderful feelings that can be part of sex, things that you can express to a person that there are no words for - and that is why it is important, and can be dangerous to our hearts and souls… because that kind of expression is powerful, and also vulnerable."

"What is 'vulnerable?'"

"It is a kind of fragile feeling, showing your secretest parts of yourself, and I don’t mean your vagina, I mean your spirit… it means letting yourself be weak with someone…"

"You'd have to be brave, and trust someone to do that."

"Yes. Yes, exactly."

Then, Squirt... from the depths of blankets on the other bed, with her mothers voice;

"Can we please just go to sleep?"