Early mornings

Here I sit, listening to the sounds of my sleepy home. Being woken up at 3 am to the sounds of my daughter crying. Sometimes the medicine she has to take to help her use the bathroom works too well in the middle of the night. Having stripped bedding, started laundry, cleaned her up and put her back to sleep, my mind is in overdrive. These morning are spent validating my role as a dad.

As I ruminate over the last five crazy years, I look at the changes that I have gone through. Culminating in the birthday celebrations of the previous four days, I now have a six year old.

A six year old.

Where has the time gone? Better yet, what have I done with this time that I have been given? As I listen to the sleeping sounds of my children, my pregnant beloved, and even our dog, I am left to wonder about it all. I see the struggles that no one else sees. The hard times we have been through. The mountains we have had to climb either dragging the kids with us, or chasing them upwards. I know, parenting, done right, is never easy.

But what about rest? What about finding time to be still? “You need to stop and smell the roses” is something I hear far too often. However, even when I try in earnest, days like today happen. Over and over again. I took a vacation to spend time with family. To get away from stress. To rest and be still. Instead, every single day I have been sleeping less and less.

But, there is time with the kids. There have been moments. Unintentionally amazing moments and memories. Laughter, tickle fights, nature walks, even lazy cuddle on the couch and watch Peg + Cat moments. So, why am I exhausted?

It has been a full five years. From the moment Zoey came on the scene things needed to be different. There were new words to learn, procedures to discuss, pain and fear to work through. All while maintaining a brave face. Not for anyone other than Zoey. She never demanded, but has always deserved my best. Such a strong and brave soul is contained in that little body.

This translated to being the dad that David has needed. He is the embodiment of the thing so many parents say under their breath. “Someday you will have a kid just like you…”. Yeah, I do. Smart, adventurous, aggressive, defiant, little version of me. Still, my little buddy. Showing me countless times that long after I am gone he will be there to take care of his siblings. I know he will do well, just have to keep him alive.

Following the twin tornadoes (seriously what David and Zoey can do to a house in five minuets is mind blowing) comes my respite. Sweet little Jacob. The most mild mannered of the three. Happy to run and play, or cuddle just the same. Quick with a smile, a hug, a laugh. But, he is nearing two, and the signs are there. This is going to be a fun round of the terrible twos.

I know not what #4 will bring. What special kind of chaos he will add to this mixing pot of a family. But, I am as ready as I can be for him to arrive.
All of this is a good kind of exhausting. But does it need to be exhausting? This is the question I ask myself over and over. I am sure that, someday, I will be able to find a pattern that will allow sleep. Though it really is not about the amount of sleep. It is about finding time to be still.

Time to go change the laundry, and empty the dishwasher.

Live big, love bigger, and be kind, always.

*edit notes: So, I tried to use speech to text, during the hours of 3 and 4 in the morning, while exhausted, to write this post. All that I have done today was fix some grammar and word use issues that were driving me nuts.

And so it begins….

The first few flakes of snow are falling today in RVA…. and chaos ensues. Yes, it is cold.  Yes, there are these magical flakes in the air falling to the ground, it is called snow.  Snow is not the end of the world, stop driving like it is.  *sigh* at least I have a window in my office so I can see the beauty that is this weather.

I do not know….

Here I am facing an interesting dilemma.  To be honest, this is a multi-faceted dilemma.  There is the physical and the spiritual side of some stuff that I am working through.  I think that for this portion, I am going to take a look at the physical side.  This is, after all, due completely to the fact that the spiritual side is going to be long and exhausting to delve into….

I have been reading many blogs over the last few weeks about diet, exercise, weight loss and the like.  Some of them are shockingly honest… and my heart goes out to them.  Others are more of the mantra that we are all so use to hearing though out our lives.  You know the ones I am talking about, no pain no gain, it is all for good reason, sweat is the nectar of the future godlike body you will have… blah, blah, blah.  Let me be blunt, honest, and very… very real.  I HATE the way that I look.  This is not in regards to something so vain in nature as… let’s say…. My many times broken American Indian blessed nose.  This is about my physique.  I know that some of the baggage that I carry around with me from my first marriage is a TON of self hating rhetoric that I had to hear from time to time.  But, plain and simple… I HATE THE WAY THAT I LOOK.  I cannot stand to look in the mirror anymore, for any reason.  Even spending the 20 seconds to ‘style’ my hair before work, or my once a week 5 minuet shave is sometimes too much.  Now, I am not saying that I am going to start to have an eating disorder, damage myself or hurt myself more than I can see as logical and reasonable (think about it… workouts can be HELL).  But I can start to understand what some of the formerly mentioned bloggers are talking about.  Diets of 1000 calories, 90 min work out sessions… daily… all for what? A skinner self.  Now, I, again, am not going to go to that extreme.  After all… I have a beautiful wife and an daughter-to-be to think of and take care of.  But something NEEDS to change.  So, my next blog will have my logic and break-down.