The Wall

Yesterday afternoon I took my boys to a park.  It’s not close to where they or I live.  We’ve visited it several times.

At the park’s playground is a large concrete structure.  One of the sides is a vertical wall about  six to seven feet high.  There are lots of pipes bent into loops sticking out to climb on.

I challenged my boys to climb it.  They were both nervous.  Soon my six-year-old had climbed to the top and was waving happily at me.

My nine-year-old made several attempts, never getting more than a foot or two off the ground.

My six-year-old eventually made the climb thirty times.

I asked my nine-year-old why he hadn’t made it up yet.  He was scared.  I showed him how easy it was for his brother.  There was nothing to be afraid of.  I offered him whatever help he needed.

He refused to make the climb.

He just wanted to go home and watch TV.

I told him we weren’t leaving until he climbed at least once.

After some coaxing he started to climb.

I gave him directions.

I held his feet so they wouldn’t slip.

He got scared.  He tried to climb back down.

I wouldn’t let him.

I told him he could do it.  That he was almost there.

His younger brother stood at the top, offering him help.

Eventually he made it.

He was shaking like a leaf.

On the way home I talked to him about the experience.  We discussed why it’s important to do things even though we’re afraid.  That anything worth doing is going to be scary at first.

It’s advice I needed to hear.

Did I do the right thing?  I don’t know.

I’ve seen him give up out of fear so many times before.  He needs to break this habit.

So do I.

Still here

It’s been a while since I posted.

I spent as much time as I could with my boys over the summer.

Now they’re in school.

I still spend as much time with them as I can.  I see them every day.  It’s not as much as before, though.  Obviously.

It’s a lot more than most guys in my position, though.

Changes

A couple of weeks ago we moved out of our apartment.

I’m staying at my mom’s house.  Living in the basement.

My wife and kids are living with her parents.

I’ve been spending most of my waking hours with my boys.  I miss living with them, but I’m glad I get to be with them so much.

It’s more than most separated/divorced dads get.

Missing my boys

Sometimes when I can’t be with my boys it hurts. It feels like there’s a huge hole in my heart.

Other times I’m fine.

I don’t know what makes the difference.

When I was younger I would dream about marriage. I wanted to get married as far back as I can remember.

Fatherhood was something I rarely gave any thought.

I figured I would have kids at some point. I didn’t think about it beyond that.

Sometimes it’s all I can think about now.

I want to spend as much time with my boys as I can.

I want them to have the best future they can.

I want to do whatever I can to make that happen.

I want to have the best relationships with them I can.

I want them to be the best men they can be.

I want them to learn from my bad choices.

To not go through what I’ve been through.

Changes

It’s been a while since my last post.

I’ve moved out of our apartment.  Into my mom’s basement.

I’ve only spent one night there.  A long night.

I’m still staying at the apartment most nights.

I got a new laptop.  The old one kept overheating.

The wi-fi connection on the new one is flaky.  I’m not sure why.

No job yet. I’m not sure what to do about that.

I ought to start a business.  I’m not sure I’m up to it.

I need to do something, though.

Moving

I hate moving.

I started moving stuff as soon as I could.  I didn’t want to be scrambling at the last minute.

Moving my things hasn’t affected my emotions.

A few days ago my wife had my kids start packing, though.

That got to me.

My boys they were oblivious. “Dad, can you tape this box for me?”

It made it real for me.

They’re leaving.

I need to be humbled?

I think of myself as a humble person.

I don’t go around talking about how great I am.

I don’t even think it.

There is one area I need help with:

I don’t ask for help.

I’ll do anything I can think of to avoid it.

When I move I do as much on my own as I can.

I’ll visit forums looking for answers to questions.  If no one has asked the question, I’ll move on.  I don’t want to ask it myself.

Look at all kinds of do-it-yourself books, websites etc.  If a task requires a second person, I’ll lose interest.

I wonder what refusing to ask has cost me.

Divorce?

Separation from my babies?

Moving into a dungeon?

How much worse will things have to get?

Help.

Not what I expected

At first she was going to start living with her parents.  She’d just come back to pack up.

Then she decided to just stay there on weekends.  The boys didn’t want to change schools.

She ended up not going at all this last weekend.

I took my older son to see The Last Jedi.  My younger son was afraid it would be scary.

I don’t know the future.

I’m glad I spent time with my boys.

I know they’ll to be okay.

So will I.

 

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

10 ways I can help my mom

  1. Get repairs done to her house
  2. Get her a new house
  3. Get her some physical therapy
  4. Get her to see a therapist
  5. Support her so she can stop working
  6. Help her with lanudry
  7. Help her with grocery shopping
  8. Change all the burned out light bulbs
  9. Let her see my boys more often
  10. Take her to the zoo, etc., and rent her a scooter.

10 ways I can teach my boys

  1. Directly
  2. Taking them to museums
  3. Taking them to Church
  4. Working
  5. Not losing my temper
  6. Showing them alternatives
  7. Helping them think outside the box
  8. Taking them out into nature
  9. Meditating with them
  10. Helping them set goals