Tag: #family

  • Missing the Joy of the Holidays

    I have been trying to get in a Christmas mood, but it just isn’t taking. It’s a bit easier when the kid is around, but I think every parent would give that answer. We have done all the things that we normally do. We have decorated, made cookies, and gone out shopping. We have watched Christmas movies, wrapped gifts, and made our plans for Christmas-Eve.

    But it’s still not taking.

    Last year was weird, don’t get me wrong. The first Christmas under Covid wasn’t great, but it did feel a little like we were stealing a piece of normal back. That, out of all the awful changes, this was one old thing that was good to be doing. I think it also helped that Trump lost the election, and the first vaccines were going out, which made it feel like the world was getting better.

    I did think that by the time we hit December 2021, that we would be putting Covid behind us, the kid would have a vaccine, and no more masks. That’ll teach me to be optimistic.

    But, I don’t think I want to be a person that stops being optimistic. That today can still be a good day, and tomorrow can be even better. That I don’t have the answers but I know it will work out.

    It’s the old theatre adage; A shitty dress rehearsal makes for a great opening night. Today might be bad, but tomorrow it will all come together.

    Anyway, kind’a got off subject there. I was talking about Christmas and the Holidays.

    Let’s focus on the positive, as that is what I tell the kid to do.

    We are going to see a movie in a theatre this year. We’ll get lobster rolls on Christmas Eve, and Mom and Dad will toast a martini, though it might be a bourbon this year. Christmas coffee cake will be made, and the kid will not be able to sleep, anticipating Christmas morning.

    And we’ll be together. Which is what really counts.

  • Having a Family

    I didn’t always want to be a parent. At first, it felt like something that I had to do, or was inventible. And then when I went away to college, I started to think that being a parent wasn’t for me. The fact that I wanted to go into the arts made me feel like I couldn’t be counted on to provide. And then I met my wife, who was open with me, that one day she would want to be a mother. Not that it had to be with me, or that we had to agree on it right now, but it was important to her. I did come around to wanting to become a father, and a parent with her. Not that it didn’t scare the shit out of me, and still does, but the change was that I wanted to do it, even though it was scary.

    I think there is a big difference in wanting to do something and it scares you, and that thing scares me and I don’t want to do it.

    That is also why I am completely understanding people who don’t want to have kids for that reason; I don’t want to do it. If you have taken the time to search your soul, and that is the answer you came up with, Great! And if you have never spent any time thinking about it, and that is also you’re conclusion, Super Great!

    Because we all know the horrible truth of this world; there are people out there who should not be parents, or they became parents for the wrong reasons. And in those situations, the kids are the ones who sufferer, and for no fault of their own.

    Yes, I know there are people out there that learned to love being a parent, but that’s an awful gamble with a kid’s wellbeing.

    I say all of this because, it was a hard-parenting weekend with my daughter. Arguments, and tears, and misunderstandings, and some pretty selfish behavior. It was not fun. What it was, was a whole lotta work. And come this morning, I was tired, and sore for some reason.

    But then, I walked the kid to school, and she asked me if we could play Legos this afternoon, and listen to music.

    And not that it made up for the difficult weekend, but it reminded me of why I wanted to be a parent. Even though it is scary as shit.

  • Thanks, Uncle Rene

    My uncle died this morning. It was my mom’s brother.

    He was the uncle who encouraged me to read books, write, go into theatre, and move to New York. When I graduated high school, he took me to a book store and told me to pick out whatever I wanted. And then he added other books he felt I should read. He was also the person who suggested that I get a subscription to The New Yorker. You could talk to him about anything because he seemed to know a little about everything.

    I have reached the age when I can now full appreciate the gifts God has given me, and for some reason, God feels compelled to take them all back.

    But my uncle was a priest, so I bet he’d tell me to go easy on God.

    Because no one really leaves you if you love them.

    And I know he loved me.

  • Memories of Apple Picking

    When the wife and I were dating, we never went apple picking. Around here, it’s an easy “Cute Date” you can have. You know, rent a car, go upstate, dress in flannel and sweaters, take lots of pictures that involve hugging while holding apples. We used to make fun of people who did it.

    Then time passed, we had a kid, and my parents came to visit one year in the Autumn, and as we were trying to think of things to do with them, we went apple picking. And it was fun. Holding a plastic bag, pulling apples off a tree, walking around eating them, and talking. Talking with my Mom while she held her granddaughters’ hand.

    When my parents came to visit, none of us had any idea that we had limited time left. I mean, you never really know that. You never know that, that goodbye, might just be the last goodbye. My Mom wanted to come back in the Autumn again, to apple pick, to look at the foliage. It just didn’t work out that way.

    And so, when Fall rolled around, we headed out to the farm, to pick the apples, like all the other people from the City. This year, we brought the dog, which was a nice change up. We got out the plastic bags, I put on my flannel, and the wife wore a sweater. We picked apples, and tasted them, and talked. And I took pictures, so, you know, we can keep the memories alive.

  • Doing Laundry

    Monday is laundry day around here. The family laundry has been my chore since the kid was born. I used to get up… Well, the new born would get us up at 6am, and on Sundays, I would head out around that time, and walk the one block to the local laundromat. We had been going to that place for years, and all the people who worked there knew me, so it was a friendly place. (In fact, before the kid was born, we used to drop our laundry off and use their wash and fold service. But with a baby, we stopped using the service, and I started doing it all ourselves.) That was six and a half years ago when I started doing the laundry. The laundromat has gone through a renovation and a change in management, but now every Monday, I am there doing it.

    Recently, I started thinking about my chore of the laundry. It takes up two hour of my day, and sometime longer if I do or do not get help folding. It would be nice to have a washer and dryer in our apartment, or at least in the building, but even if that were true, it would still be a chore that I would have to do, and it would still take up time. But, the time really doesn’t bother me, as I am writing this while all the clothes are in the dryer.

    What I started thinking about is how I sort of feel fulfilled doing this chore. Like making dinner every night, I like that I provide a necessary service for my family. I don’t feel like I am being taken advantage of, or that this is a thankless job. I like that I am doing something that helps the family keep moving forward. I never thought I would get to the point in my life where I would enjoy doing laundry.