Reality Check

It’s April and it’s snowing.

Perfect.

A paper cut on my tongue and all will be complete. Not a big fan of Winter type weather you see. Espcially when I'm seriously needing it to be full blown Spring.

I want to take a moment to establish a bit of balance here on the ol' blog. It has struck me that I may have created a bit of an unintentional misrepresentation. Not that I take back or amend anything I’ve written, I just want to be fair. As I read back over my writing lately it all seems quite pastoral, to the point that I find myself doing or saying things in real life and then feeling the guilt saying, “Well, that doesn’t quite live up to the male Mary Poppins image you’ve created for yourself on your blog, does it?”

I love the moments I’ve recorded here. Don't get me wrong. They are the very select. But then there are moments that I haven’t recorded that can make real life resemble the Rosanne show more than a Hallmark special. I got into the car this morning to take the kids to school and my daughter says, “You ok, Dad? You seem kind of stressed.” I felt like the rest of the car was probably thinking, “So, this is what PollyAnna looks like during PMS.”

“I had a hard night,” was all I could respond.

You see, we’re having furnace trouble. And when the guy came out, he took the motor out and had to take it back to the shop because it needed a part----that they had to order, of course, and it wouldn’t be there till the next day. So we were facing a night that was forecast as being unseasonably chill, with no heater. The potential was there for things to get a little “hunting cabin after the fire dies” during the night. My wife, being diligent, began to prepare.

She washed our flannel winter PJs and got out extra blankets to have them handy. The kids are in rooms where they have these built in electric space heaters that they use all winter, so they’d all be warm enough. The final issue to consider was the little Bear. He sleeps in our room just off the foot of our bed on a little bunk that is just the size of his crib mattress. Kind of a tweener bed before we have to fork out for a full size single. It’s worked really well, but for tonight there’s the concern that it seems impossible for him to make it through a night without kicking his covers totally off from all the flopping he does. Half the time we find him partially off the side of his bed, draping nearly to the floor.

Out of concern for the Bear getting cold through the night my wife moved his little bunk into the boy’s room. That made things a little tight, but there was still a passageway and at least everyone would get a good nights sleep.

I was out while all this was going on. When I returned home, everyone was tucked away and the house was quiet. Robo told me this morning as I dropped him off that the Bear took it upon himself to keep them shushed while they were falling asleep. When one of the would talk, he told me, Bear would walk over in the dark and point at them, telling them “Shhhh! Sleeping!” Too cute.

So, as I say, when I got home, there was just the putting to bed of the grown-ups. We put on our cozy PJs and settled down under the covers. I drifted off and was quite in the thick of some deep dreamy place when this terrified scream grabbed me by my throat and yanked me back to consciousness. Even as I was pushing myself up off the pillow, I was still trying to figure out which way was up and what that freaky noise was. Before I got my senses together I could hear my wife in the other room calling out Bear’s name, trying to get to him and comfort him.

It appears that he woke up in a strange place and being disoriented and not able to find his mom, he freaked out. She held him till he calmed down and fell back to sleep, then she put him back in his bed in the boys room. She had no more than gotten herself back to bed and relaxed when he woke up and started crying out all over again.

We soon realized that he wasn’t going to have any part of being in this other room to sleep so we began a little midnight furniture move and pulled his bed back into our room. However, even though it was back in our room, he wouldn’t have any part of his own bed. Can’t really blame him, each time he lay down on it he woke up somewhere different that where he expected.

So we brought him into the bed with us. He lay down between us, but because of this nasal congestion that he’s currently suffering from, he flipped and flopped and squirmed trying to fall back asleep. In the process we were kicked in the ribs, the face, the head and various other sundry places. I knew I’d never get the sleep I needed in here, so at my wife’s recommendation, I gathered my things to go out and sleep on the couch.

My kids think it’s some kind of treat to sleep on this couch. I have no idea why. I’ve even come out and found that at some point in the night they got up and transferred themselves to the couch in the middle of the night. I brought my pillow and blankets and lay down on that thing and it’s as hard as a rock.

I finally fell asleep, fitfully dreaming about our State University football team loosing in extraordinary fashion that defied the laws of physics, and alternating with dreams about backing into luxury motor vehicles that all owned by my Ex-father in law that were lining the streets surrounding my parent’s house. When I finally awoke with the light coming in the windows over the couch, it still felt like I needed another 8 hours of sleep.

Now I faced the day with an aching body and sleep depravation. The ideal combination when preparing for a three day weekend camping trip.

Yes, you read that right. Camping. With the Scouts. All weekend.

Robo is so excited. I am so filled with dread. I know that sentiment really screws up my chances for making the Olympic Fatherhood team, but I’m just being honest. I don’t know what it is but all the activities he has in Scouting have me mentally digging in my heels. I feel like I wish that wasn’t so and that I could just go out and be super leader and help my boy get all the badges and teach him about the outdoors and all that scouting stuff. I want to be like my Dad is what that says---he was exactly that guy. But all I am is me. I’m an Eagle Scout so you can’t say that I haven’t given it a chance to grow on me.

And believe me, I’ve given him every chance to loose interest and quit. But he just won’t.

So I force myself to do this because he seems to love it so much. I do it because I want to be there to at least see him enjoying himself doing the things he seems to have been made to do. Just like I play catch with him in the side yard when it only serves to display my inhuman inability to manipulate sports equipment. I want all my kids to know that they are supported in the things they do---even if I want to crawl out of my skin while I’m doing it.

It just stresses me out. Except when they let me help with fire. For some reason I find it very relaxing to burn things.

Does that scare anyone else?