Oh the joys of parenting are ceaseless and never ending. The fine world we live in is filled with a beautiful ugliness that sometimes defies explanation. There are things that happen, situations that occur that are beyond description. Moments in time in which you wish to rend your clothes and gnash your teeth in anger.
Were I a wolf I would most certainly stand outside and howl at the moon. Were I not a father I would consider taking on a bar to see what sort of damage I could do. Call it the too much testosterone theory of using alcohol to self medicate. Because the truth is that were I to head out to a bar I would be curious to see if we couldn't start the kind of crazy saloon brawl I used to watch on television.
You know, the one where bottles are smashed upon heads and men are thrown through plate glass windows. And since this is my silly dream I'll add that it wouldn't be me who would fly through the window or swinging doors with the greatest of ease. I'd tear it up in there like nobody's business. I would be the ultimate fighter, an unstoppable juggernaut who in between punches would manage to grab a shot and down a beer.
But that is nothing more than a pipe dream, a silly fantasy that bears no resemblance to reality. And while I do find the dream to be rather attractive I haven't any interest in finding out if reality would resemble it. It is not because I can't fight because the sad truth is that in my youth I found more than a few opportunities to use my fists. Rather it is because I don't want my children to see me respond to the absurd and the surreal with violence.
That doesn't mean that I hide my anger and frustration from them because I refuse to do that. They need to see that adults get angry too. But they need to see an appropriate response to the challenges that life sometimes presents us with. So while they may see me storm around a bit they won't see me do stupid things...too often.
I may not share the details of everything that happens to me but I won't lie and say that I never make mistakes. I have and I do. But I do my best to avoid them and when they happen I try to turn them into teaching moments.
The heavy bag in my garage is there because it is great exercise. Don't believe me, try throwing punches for 3 minutes straight. Not only is it great exercise it is cathartic.
So here I am up past midnight... again. That works out to be 83,168 consecutive days. Good times my friend, but that is ok. I have turned this into a challenge. A big puzzle that requires thought, effort and dedication. Well, I can't promise thought but I can offer effort and dedication. As some of you know, I have buckets of dedication so I can devote some of the extras to the cause.