reading – developing dad

Christmas Break

The author reflects on the past year, emphasizing personal growth and accomplishments. They acknowledge the challenges of parenthood, career development, and maintaining sobriety. The family’s well-being and the author’s writing aspirations are also highlighted. Overall, the narrative presents a heartfelt journey of self-improvement, gratitude, and optimism for the future.

Like a lot of other folks I tend to spend some time during that final week of the year assessing. Perhaps its silly, but based on the posts of my co-conspirators, er, rather the friends I’ve grown up with or made along the way, I’m not the only one who uses this break in the schedule to contemplate the past year and by extension, where I am on this adventure.

It makes sense. I’m anything if not a meaning making machine, moving through life and attempting to make it mean something is really my life’s work in the broadest sense of that term. And what better time of year to sit and contemplate where I am, where I’ve been and what lays ahead.

That said, I wish there was some balance to this week in midsummer. A week when the world slows to a crawl, where everyone, by default, is expected to be unavailable as they congregate with their families and eat, drink and be merry. Concentrating all of our year in review thoughts to the shortest days of sunlight around the most emotionally charged time of the year, the holidays, may not be the perfect set up. That said, its probably healthy to imbue some bleakness into the assessment in order to account for the unavoidable bleakness that consciousness compels upon us beings whose sole unifying reality is death. That bleak enough?

Lets Occam’s Razor this task first. White/Black. Yes/No. Pass/Fail. The 30,000 foot assessment is easy sitting here at fifty, a bit more than half way through the ride. Pass. Don’t dismiss this victory too quickly. It wasn’t always certain that I’d land squarely on this side of the dividing line. At least it wasn’t always so clear to me. In fact there were years there, possibly decades when this outcome didn’t feel so easily attained. But as I sit here with a happy family, a wonderful partner and wife and a good deal of the adventure still left to discover, I’m relieved to say that I’m pretty good at this point. Could of course get hit by a bus (literally OR metaphorically) at anytime and I keep that front of mind, but from where I sit I’m fairly comfortable and excited for what is yet to come.

Now, let’s put some more fine points on the line and determine where I am and what I can bank.

I’ve become a better dad in time. Started out kinda rough. I always loved and cared for the kids, but those early days I didn’t really come through for my wife. I wasn’t horrendous and it wasn’t anything other than typical failings, but I’ve gotten better and I hope it’s helpful. Where I really failed was caring for myself. I still struggle to do it, but I’m determined.

I’m about 3 years back into exercising with some regularity. One thing that is for sure is that my body is not what it used to be. In fact, just on stats it’s about 30% more than it used to be. And no, I’m not saying I’m 8’1″. No, I’m afraid all my added size is concentrated in the middle as I grow horizontally. I had no idea that all those years spent playing basketball in my youth were wasted as my natural body type would be that of a wrestler or a large appliance mover.

My career is, knock on wood, moving right along. About 10 years ago we made a decision as a family for me to start making moves in my career with the conscious goal of getting to a place where we could get closer to financially secure. This would seem to be a natural goal of all workers I would assume, but I didn’t really make the effort prior to that. I mean, I was viable and as such I was secure, but like many new parents the world started to look very different when I started seeing it through a (thankfully) healthy new babies eyes. Having made decisions with that new imperative these past 10 years or so, we appear to be on track to retire somewhat close to the normal timeline. That said, there were some bumps on that road. I can tell you, it SUCKS being fired with young ones. That said, in hindsight it was the best thing for me and for our future.

I’m not drinking. I never thought I would be able to say that. I was quite committed to the task. Been a little over 2 years and I’m so happy I didn’t stay drunk the whole time. It was somehow depleting from every other aspect of my life while fueling and feeding my anger and annoyance. Drinking is stupid. If you can, you should stop. I still drink two beers a night, though non-alcoholic. I like to ensure I keep my calories up to stay warm in winter;)

I’m reading again. Not as much since I took on a new job in August. But I made my first Goodreads reading goal and thankfully reached it by midyear. It was only 25 books, but I should note, this would always have been a miss for me in every year of my life. I don’t know how people manage to live and hit some of the numbers I hear people spewing in their end of year book summaries. I am a HUGE advocate of reading, but when someone says they read 150 books this year I just worry about them. Maybe they’re fine, but maybe it’s a cry for help, no?

For the record, and in no particular order, these are my favorites of the year. Small Gods by Terry Pratchett, Shades of Glory by Lawrence Hogan, A Little Devil in America by Hanif Abdurraqib, Kindred by Octavia Butler, Beartown by Fredrik Backman, Babel by R.F. Kuang, House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune and The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman.

My kids are doing great and I likely won’t be writing about them in much detail anymore. At least for the time being. Honestly, when they were little what I wrote was universal and connective. Felt that way to me at least. I was writing for my tribe of fellow parents with little ones struggling to navigate the transition they throw us into that we could never have been prepared for. It was cathartic for me and largely inobtrusive for them. While I may still write tangentially about them as I talk about me, I no longer feel their lives are so intertwined with mine that I have the right to put out their lives as my own. Perhaps I was wrong to do it as long as I did. I really don’t know. What I do know is that it would be entirely wrong to share their stories now as all I have are my access to their story. My point of view on their story. But their story’s are theirs completely now and it would be intrusive and honestly destructive for me to commandeer those stories for my tales. So be it.

What I can say about the kids is they are growing up. We are heading into the teen years and they are playing their roles exactly as they should. My wife continues to have an amazing bond and provides for the emotional support I can’t always tap inside me. They, all of them, are the best thing that has or will ever happen to me. I’m so proud to be their dad and her husband. We are sometimes stumbling and often soaring. We continue to learn how to be there for each other. I love them all with all my heart.

I published a short story since last I wrote here. I did it right this time and hired a copyeditor and am really proud of the how it turned out. It’s a lovely love story of sorts, a cozy tale of sorts, a melancholic tale with some laughs and more, but I can’t say what more it is without giving away a critical reveal toward the end. It’s called ‘It all Started Down at the Stewarts’ and it I’m really proud of it. I think it’s really good. Takes about an hour to read or listen to (my brother is a professional audiobook narrator and incredibly talented) on audible. If you read it and like it a positive review would really be appreciated. Telling friends you think might like it is also incredibly helpful.

I’d like to get back into the writing game. I miss it. This is the second post I’ve written this past two weeks, but I suspect this will be the first to be published. Perhaps it will be the only one. That said, I saw Neil Gaiman talking about his process for writing novels and he said he has taken to writing longhand in notebooks for his first draft. This lets him avoid interruptions that our tech has gotten way to efficient at providing and also lets him type out the second draft which really helps in the ‘re-writing’ part of the second draft. That resonated with me so I have the notebook and pens ready. Haven’t started yet, but I am optimistic.

What else is there to say. I guess that’s a wrap on 2023 and a good read on how it looks from 50 with a couple of kids and a family. Happy New Year. I would love to hear how your annual review went in your home.

Diary of a Wimpy (and AWESOME!) Bookstore

When your seven year old son manages to have his attention wrangled by a book you pounce. When he falls so in love with a book series that he reads 12 of them as fast as he can acquire them you do everything you can to feed his passions. In our case that meant spending hours on end reading with him. He would assign both me and his mother separate books that we would take to his room and lie in his bed with him while each reading quietly. If one or the other of us chuckled we would read what it was that made us giggle back so we could all get in on the laugh. For us, for our Charlie, that book series was the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books by Jeff Kinney.

Charlie at the hotel that night showing off his haul!

I don’t know if you’ve had any time recently with an obsessed seven year old. It’s intense. And when there is a exactly 217 pages x 12 books of details to obsess on ones curiosity extends beyond the pages of the books and into all the surrounding content they can find. It was while pursuing any and all things Greg Hefley that our Charlie discovered the existence of An Unlikely Story in Plainville, Massachusetts.

Well, our fate was sealed. A journey to the store was in the offing. So when we surprised him on the night before we were to drive the four and a half hours (spread over six or so as we were of course traveling with the seven year old and his five year old brother) he immediately started bouncing. Just ceaseless bouncing while exclaiming over and over, ‘this is going to be the best day ever!’

He wasn’t wrong.

There’s no telling if a bookstore so highly anticipated in the active imagination of a little boy can live up to his wild expectation. As soon as we pulled into the small parking lot adjacent the store on the otherwise unremarkable intersection in the aptly named (no offense) Plainville any concerns were allayed. He was all buzz and electricity.

Upon entering the bookstore we were all a bit overwhelmed. Immediately it was clear that this store was not the beautiful monstrosities we come across at our local corporate book monolith but rather a space designed by and for people who loved books. The high ceilings and burnished wood surfaces were beautiful in the lighting that instead of bathing every inch in overwhelmingly bright floods of fluorescent uniformity highlighted the spaces between the shelves and the items throughout the store.

It’s clear as well that this space was designed as a community space for book lovers, fantasy geeks, story obsessives and lovers of the type of independent bookstores that take residence more in our minds and memories than in our lives these days. Which is wonderful. For all the awesomeness we discover at the massive book behemoths there is something about getting lost in a less uniform space that I didn’t realize they were missing until they got to navigate this place of magic. It’s a modern throwback to a time when bookstores held a different role in the life of a place and a welcome balance to the modern, uniform experience. A place where a sports fan, a cookbook enthusiast, a reader of mystery and genre fiction and kids learning to fall in love with stories can share the space without feeling separated and segregated. Where each can stumble on the other and become curious about others interests.

The cafe was unobtrusive and inviting and after making all our purchases of all things Wimpy (and a novel for me and bag for mama) we were comfortable lingering and exploring our new lit stuff. In fact the cafe attendant saw how much Charlie loved the Wimpy Kid books and when we were done getting our assorted refreshments she slipped us a few cups, the sort used for a fountain soda or iced coffee, with images of Greg Hefley, the Wimpy one himself, all over them. We haven’t broken them out yet. We’ll probably save them for dinner the night his pre-ordered, signed copies of book 13 come in the mail!

An Unlikely Story Bookstore & Cafe

High Stepping Out of Toddlerhood

They know its ‘daddy’s car’ that they get into to go to school. They are three and one so it is definitely daycare, but it’s a truly great one and they learn a ton and have the chance to interact endlessly with all kinds of kids and they do so more naturally than kids who aren’t fortunate enough to have this opportunity. It would be nice to spend the whole day with them, everyday, but I could never give them what they get at the Y. Sometimes the days are longer than you’d wish and by Friday all that play and fun can add up to some tired and cranky kiddos, but all in all, its great.

This is because, every morning after me and the older boy drop off the younger boy, getting him to his favorite teacher that got him past those tough early days when it was all confusing and scary, I get to walk to the end of the hall, the other side of the daycare center and drop off the older boy with his teachers and make small talk as we put his special meal away (food allergies) find and move his nameplate from the out board to the in board and ask him if he needs to go potty. Then I take a knee and say, ‘I love you, buddy. Have a great day.’ and he hugs me and I hug him back and tell him I’m proud of him. Finally I get up and once again, more publicly say, ‘have a great day buddy. Bye.’ And he says ‘have a great day, daddy.’ See ya later. There’s really nothing cuter than a 3 year old talking, trust me, its adorable. I tell the teachers to have a nice day and I head out of the room.

Unlike any of the other dads, I turn right out the door, take two steps and go through another door. This brings me to the corridor stretching about a fifty feet or so from the welcome desk to the right, and the doors that are closed all winter but open all summer as they are the point of entry and check in for all staff and campers in the summer day camp program at the Y about fifty feet to my left. I’m 5 feet from the door to Charlie’s classroom, I step directly across the hall to my office. That’s right, I work maybe 20 feet and two doors from my kid all day.

Recently it’s become okay for him to see me and it doesn’t ruin his day if we happen upon each other. So I do my best to happen upon him whenever I can. I sneak onto the mezzanine around the pool he learns to swim in and I spy on him, until he sees me and refuses to do anything other than to wave to me nonstop saying ‘Daddy, daddy.’ I have to leave once discovered. All his friends know who I am too, so they do the same and let him know that his daddy is there. Cover blown I blow him a kiss and he returns the kiss to me and I wave bye bye and leave. In the halls we slap high-fives on the occasions we run into each other. I even have a window in my office that looks out on the gymnasium where he plays an hour a day in the winter months and I sneak peeks when I can and worry when he’s sitting or playing by himself, or if I think he’s sad. Until I look around and see about ten kids playing independently like this and I remember that I was much the same way, still am, and while like everyone I sometimes wish I had opposite characteristics to my own, I’m a decent and well adjusted human and it would be weird if he weren’t somewhat like me.

All these things are highly valued by me. I took a big risk to be sitting here with these perks that I rarely talk about. We’ve only been here for a year. Not even. I dropped a fully formed career (I’m a forty year old dad of two toddlers) that had consisted of two stints, roughly a decade each, at two prominent nonprofits in the city and with not enough education had managed to become a middle management type through doing what I loved to do, doing it well and trading a certain amount of recognition and upward mobility for a level of independence and freedom. I didn’t love all aspects of it, but it was good and it allowed me to essentially be very part time while still getting the benefits of being full time in the early years with the little ones. It was a hard decision to leave a place where everyone did what I did, namely work to provide opportunities for more full and fully integrated lives for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, to a place where I was the one guy fully in that boat. Where special needs was a dept. and not the entire mission of the entity from the very very top all the way to the 2 hour on weekend bus aid. I’m still a bit of a fish out of water here at the Y.

But it’s all good. Because, at the end of the day I get to pick up the guys! These days its from the small fenced in playground just outside the winter-locked, summer camp doors. At least that’s where I pick up my Charlie, my three year old. Inevitably he is first picked up since the one year old is at the wildcard stage of development and I kinda need to have my hands and feet free to keep him in check.

For the entire time I’ve been working there I’ve walked in, teachers or kids have let Charlie know that I was there to get him, and his knees have started bouncing like crazy as he’s high stepped it over to see me, yelling 3 times, daddy daddy daddy. He runs to me. I get down and we hug and smile and hug and smile and eventually I ask how his day was and he eventually says it was good and that he had fun. It’s our moment before we head in and get his little brother, the kid he has called, affectionately, ‘baby’ for most of his life. His name, Teddy, was already taken by Charlie’s bear by the time ‘baby’ arrived.

This reaction of Charlie at the end of the day is something I’ve never taken the time to think about, something I’ve taken completely for granted. Until today.

Why, you ask. Well, my boy is growing up. We still had our moment at the pool, and I’m sure he’ll give me a high-five the next time I see him in the halls. But today he didn’t have his ‘daddy daddy daddy’ reaction. The knees didn’t pop up and down above his waist like they always had. His smile was tepid and not beaming. He was happy to see me. It was still wonderful. But it’s slipping. I suspect it’ll be slowly at first. It was a strange day as I came from a different angle than normal. And he saw me from a distance and it was going to be some time til I got there. But ultimately it won’t last forever. I hope I get even one more reaction like this from him. His brother is starting to run smiling and I love that he recognizes me now, and I look forward to his excitement. But I can’t help but feel a touch of the melancholy as Charlie so easily shifts between stages and grows up so fast.

It’s a day later and the halting greeting I received yesterday was once again replaced by the ebullient and buoyant energy I’ve come to rely on, though I didn’t know it until it skipped a day. I’m relieved to know it’s not gone forever. Terribly relieved. But I’m also awakened to how much it has meant to me and I cherish it even more.

I’m told that I should make little movies of these things. Of the times they are so excited by there favorite show coming on that they can’t help but run to the floor to dance. Of the times they choose to be our playmates and they make us 3 years old right beside them as we melt in the glorious glow of their exuberant and uninhibited joy. Surely some of these I have recorded and some I will. But this moment of excitement will have to be remembered here, like this. Watching it after it’s a thing of the past would simply hurt too much.