Absent Fathers Suck.

I know this topic is a tad off my usual subject matter, but an important one nonetheless.

I'm really enjoying my children lately - always have - but life as a daddy has been especially good lately. That may sound strange to you, but my wife and I have four children, ages fifteen through nine and our world gets really crazy at times. Yet with all the wackiness, we managed to have a great weekend. I spent quite a bit of time with each one of them, doing something they enjoy, like playing video games, making necklaces, writing, reading, boxing, wrestling. And now, as you can imagine, I'm exhausted, muscles sore, head aching and in need of a little peace and quite.

I'll confess, there were times over the course of the last several years where I put other things ahead of them, not always, but times. I'm sure I had my list of reasons, all justified in my eyes: quotes were due, had to finish the job, chapters almost done, you name it. But the thing is, I always hated myself later. When I finished whatever it was that kept me from them, I was always filled with remorse.

Children grow up way too fast, sometimes leaving before we're ready for them to go. They watch and learn and observe our mannerisms, imitate our dialect and mirror our integrity. As I was thinking about this, I thought of the moments I've failed and then remembered the things I've done right and then sighed, somewhat pleased that although I've not been perfect, I know that I've not been absent.

As a writer, it's very easy to be absent, because writing is such a solitary act. The very thought of interruptions, just about gives me a migrain. And so I have to be very careful, and my wife does a great job at making sure I lift my head up and engage in our family. On my own, I'm afraid the story, or the platform building, or the emailing would consume me. In fact, I know it would. My nature is to keep my head down, driving forward like a Wisconsin snow plow, smashing mail boxes and digging up sod along the way!

The point is, absent fathers suck and they come in an assortment of colors: emotionally absent, physically absent, financially absent, and spiritually absent. They breed absent teenagers, absent citizens, absent husbands and absent daddys. And when they look back on their life they shrivel up and die with regret, because when an absent father finally lifts his head and discovers that no one is there, he looks back and wonders what it was that pulled him away, what was so damn important that took precedence over his family.

Absent fathers suck. Don't be an absent father or mother. Write, read, create, but live your life with balance, frequently taking time to laugh and wrestle and talk with your children. If you choose to give your family the scraps of your life, you'll regret it for all eternity. But you'll never regret keeping your head up and engaging with your children. BOOM!

Questions That Make You Smile

Okay, you do the math! High school in 1988 - College in 2001. It took me a while, but I graduated from Indiana University through the school of Icantbelievethistookmethirteenyears-amIsomekindofidiot. Seriously, I did! It's a very obscure field - often overlooked by the elite intelligencia! Of course, after graduation there was the usual chasing down the American dream, the jobs, the family and all the rough spots in between that can bring you to the point of depression. Sound familiar? Well as you know, there are times that make the 80-grit moments of life worth while. Today was one of those days.

We brought the kids to my in-laws pool to enjoy one of the last sunshinny days of summer and my ten-year old decided that he didn't need to go to school. He presented a very compelling argument that he could, in the end, build forts and roof houses for a living, because he was strong and didn't need to use his brain to work. Now normally, I'd let that go. But come on, this was a life lesson gold mine!

I proceeded to remind him of the virtues of hard work and education and how much we love him and want the best for him. I also reminded him that he had helped me roof his grandpa's shop this summer, which was a misserably hot experience for all of us. When I finished, his mother asked if he still wanted to be a roofer, and he said, "No. But I can still build forts. Besides, I don't even understand most of what Daddy just said!"

I had to laugh. And then, I knew I had to write about it, so I said to my wife, "This is gonna make a great blog entry." To which my eight-year old daughter replied with frightened and fully aware eyes, "Where? Where's a blog entry?" She was swinging her arms in the water trying to shoo that darn blog entry away. I said, "It's over there, Anna! The blog entry is by your head!" She screamed and dove in the water.

Talk about good times! It was a moment that I'll cherish forever. But wait! There's more...

When Anna came out of the water, I asked if she really didn't know what a blog entry was. She said, "Of course, I do. It's one of those things you write on the computer." I was stunned and asked, "How did you know that?" She replied, "Everything I know, I've learned from the Disney Channel!" I shot a disouraging glare at my wife and immediately fell into a deep depression. However, I'm sure there will be more sunshinny days ahead. BOOM!

Sleepy Little Boogers!

I should really be in bed right now, but I'm a blogger, and bloggers never sleep! Do they? Anyway, speaking of sleep, I have to hand it to my wife; she's a real trooper. She had a girls night out last night and made a "To Do" list for a couple of the kids to take care of. And here's what she found upon her return...

1) None of the items on the list were completed.
2) Two out of four kids hadn't eaten dinner (by 10:00 pm).
3) The house was trashed.
4) The only food the 2 kids mentioned previously put in their bellies was a 2 liter of Coke!

You heard right...Coke for dinner. Needless to say it was a late night for poor wifey. She did an after-midnight clean until 1:30 a.m., made omelets and toast for the two famished coke drinkers and lovingly snuggled them all to bed around 12:00 a.m. Now I wasn't there, but I'm almost certain she did all that with a smile on her face...the whole time! Well, that may be stretching the truth just a little, but I talked to her at 1:30 a.m. from work and she seemed to be in pretty good spirits. That is if the words, slam-dunking those sleepy little boogers to bed is a term of affection. There were other four letter words that came out of her mouth, I think, but I'm not sure, she was talking pretty fast and I don't think I got it all. But what I do remember hearing after she completed her pleasant monologue was, "They're so sweet."

So here I sit, at 6:55 a.m., finally home from working the midnight shift. I'm exhausted and absolutely beaten down from my toilsome labor. I walk in the door and see a mound of adolescent flesh piled up in my living room, making a variety of noises, some that I probably shouldn't mention, and yet, as wifey said, they do look sweet and content, like little angels. It just makes me realize how quickly they grow up and helps me to remember how much trouble I was at their age. Sleepy little boogers? Yes, they are. But they're my little boogers and I do love them. And uh, before I forget - I'm taking bets that they wake up before 7:30 a.m! Any takers? BOOM!