Frenzied Daddy

My job title, and the one I’ve given since I met Noel at Cowboyz, has been (yawn) Web Programmer. It covers the topic but doesn’t encourage discussion (especially since I feel obliged to specify “programmer in scripting languages”). However, this article gives me an excellent title to put on my resume. “Multi-Skilled Content Professional.”

I like it.

There’s a REI commercial for one of their recent sales that recent struck a chord with me. It features a frazzled sounding clerk working his tush off, when in walks someone looking for various stuff. “Hi, can I help you find something?”

“Yes, where is your rock climbing equipment? And your kayaks?”

“Over there and there- hey can I ask where you’re going?”

“Oh, some friends of mine and I are going to hike into the Columbia Gorge and kayak out. By the way, I’ll be needing mountain bike stuff for our trip afterwards.”

Subdued, the clerk goes back to opening his boxes, when a feminine voice approaches …

“Pardon me, can you tell me where to find your camping stuff? I’m going to need a tent suitable for the Serengeti.”

“Take me with you!” and the sound of sobbing.

This struck a chord with me for many reasons. Brookes was recently coming through the airport, and I was to collect her; for one reason or another the plane was about two hours late. So I bummed around the airport, seeing people rushing this way and that way with their carryons, people speaking in foreign languages, people who had obviously been on an airplane for over six hours.

Have I told you how I love to travel?

To make matters worse; my in-laws have recently begun hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. It’s a dream of mine to hike the Appalachian Trail, but the PCT would suffice I believe. So Nan and Rich disappear into the wilderness for days at a time, often with their dogs and their GPS and their cell phone (I hope.)

Rubbing salt in the wound; one of my customers on my paper route goes for frequent one week vacations. I noticed when he returned from his latest excursion that on the back of the van he takes with him is a Pacific Crest Trail sticker.

I wanna go out to play.

No, these aren’t martians; they’re artichokes, and they’re six feet tall! Delicious, and nutritious, and weird looking.
This is the third year for this particular set of ‘chokes, and each year they produce more.

As a result of the agreement I signed when I joined Hot Off The Press, I’m not getting a raise this year. That’s a little disappointing- but I did agree to it basically when I joined. When I joined, it was a choice of “work here under these rules and be happy that you’re being paid”. Now; I remember thinking sarcastically “oh sure, the company who treats me well enough to give me benefits right off the bat, a pay rate comparable to what I should have been making at Cowboyz is not going to give me a raise.” Well, ok they didn’t, so now I cope.

How do I cope? I cope by eating peanut butter and jelly and contemplating quitting the paper route sometime before the new child is born. I cope by remembering that Mike and Paulette aren’t evil – that it’s their money they’re throwing at my bills (for the small trade of my creativity and time.), and that their business acumen is quite a bit higher than Noel’s.

And I cope by reminding myself that work is supposed to be work, and that even if I’m holding steady, I’m outpacing the bills (barely) and eventually it’ll all be great. I just have to hold out for the someday.

This little tomato is a “Thai Pink” – I think it’s a cherry type of tomato. It’s growing fast, and already has flowers. It’s only been in the garden one week!

… imagine living with another person. And working with that person. The latter is much more involving! How to work effectively? How to respect their wishes? How to draw boundaries? How to maintain love and admiration? Every day, all day long. Those are engaging issues.
Justin’s Links:Wake Up Together

What a reminder of what it’s like to be married; He’s talking about his sweetie, who he lives & works with. But it’s true for all of us- how do we maintain love and admiration every day when we live in close companionship with the objects of our devotion? It’s not really a frenzied pitch of crush-love that I feel for my wife, and I have to admit that I don’t always show her what she means to me. Nor do I really reflect on it as such, I just give her space in my life that I would resent any other human, which isn’t an active showing of admiration.

Isn’t it true also for fathers? More then just telling the kidlet that I love her, when I’m driving her to her grandma’s house for breakfast, more than offering her a peanut butter sandwich for her dinner (when she turns her nose up at tunafish casserole), how do I maintain an appropriate communication between my child and myself pertaining to what she means to me?

Emphasis because that word is subjective, and is akin to ‘should’ which is one of my badwords. (When I use the phrase “a daddy should do X” that shows that I have a specific world view, and if reality doesn’t match, then reality is at fault, like “a daddy should take the kid bike riding”) Who defines what’s appropriate? Me and the kid, generally, but how often do I ask her?

So, what I’m saying is — not only does this question, of how I maintain what I imagine a loving relation with my partner on a daily basis apply to me and my partner, but it also applies to me and my kid(s). And how do I get all that done in a day and still have time for me?

Part of the way, I suppose is to make space in my me-stuff for them; letting the Girl wash and slice strawberries for fruit salad. Letting her water the garden with me. My “chores” are a good time for her to work with me and have “quality time.” That’s one way, I suppose. The rest is, shall we say, part of the journey.

So … I went in last week to speak to a councellor at Kaiser. I have to admit, I went in with a mission. Some of you know that I was in councelling about a year ago, and it helped tremendously. Well, I’ve been backsliding. To make a long story short; I came to the short conclusion that I needed some Soma™ — the choice of the 2000s. Yes, I’m taking Prozac. Why? It’s a very long story, and it concludes with “and he may live happily, for a time.”

I’m not sure what to think about it yet; it’s only been a week and I’m still in the transition stage. I will say that the councellor said “So. You’re working a paper route in the mornings, you’re working all day at your real job, you go home and work on the house, and you want me to tell you why you’re always tired and grouchy?” I’m hoping it keeps my motivation up to journal and exercise. If I can build on those habits then I can work forward with stopping my medication. And overall, I’ll be happier.

Of course, the paper route getting the heck out of my life would be an added bonus.

I recieved an interesting email from the woman who runs MomBrain; she apparently found my site and has been a regular reader… I have to admit I’m flattered. I thought my audience consisted of friends and family exclusively. Visiting her site was intriguing; she has some very funny stories to tell about the Big Guy and the Little Guy. I can appreciate her not using personal names for the stories. I waffle.

The post I made on highways not travelled prompted two “lurkers” to speak up; both Ms. MomBrain and Russ from Russcam. I have to admit the image has swung in my mind for the past week too- the image of a swinging highway sign in a wind, hanging over a road in disuse.

The garden is growing like the proverbial gang-busters. It was only last week that we plunked the plants into the dirt, and now we have some definite growth here.

To begin with; I planted the zucchini in the tomato barrels this time, at Brookes’ request. They’ve already grown over the first ring in the wire basket thingie. I didn’t add anything to this dirt, but I did rip out all the weeds in March and then mulch it with grass clippings. Then, over in the regular beds, the artichoke is really liking the regular plucking and the tomatoes are growing like crazy. The spinach and lettuce seem to think I need to plant seeds, too. And the peas are going hopping mad!