Life, liberty, and the pursuit of tortured metaphors

It’s early morning, Departure Day. For the past week I’ve been on the first vacation I can remember from which I will not need a vacation. I’m bloated from good food, rested from good sleep, refreshed from good times. I’m the only parent here, so as usual I’m the first one up. Soon the rest of the house will scrape itself out of bed, grumpier than usual, because today we have to go home. It’s time to tuck in our shirts, lock our doors, rinse the mud off our feet. Resurface into our lives.

Some days, I’ll nip down to the beach and take the kayak for a lap around the island. It’s about eight feet of hollow fiberglas that weighs about three pounds, so on windless days you can skitter along the placid surface pretty quickly after a few perfunctory strokes. When there’s a headwind, however, and the current slaps at the bow, you have to paddle like hell to get anywhere. It’s very good for “engaging my core,” as my sadistic PT reminds me. I thought about taking it for one last go this morning, but screw it. I’m not in the mood. And besides, if I engage it anymore, my core will surely disengage and make a break for it out my backside.

A man gets a lot of time to think out there, alone and adrift. Time to think about how this is the longest he’s ever been away from his children, and how different it feels not to be utterly in charge of them for ten hours a day. How he always identified himself as a family man, even before the family arrived, and how he wonders whether the fact that he no longer lives with his kids somehow changes that self-perception.

Also how referring to himself in the third person gets real tiresome, real fast.

I thought a lot about how I’m going to adapt to this new life, and how important it is to derive some positive spin from it. The first thing that occurred to me was the extra time I’ll have as a part-time parent, and what I plan to do with that time. I’ll always be a devoted father, and while they’re this young my default setting will always be at their side. But I can see how a parent can hide behind that devotion and use it as a crutch not to challenge himself to be better. I’d love to start that project, or take that class, or write that novel. But there’s just so little time, because of the kids.

I feel a bit like the obese person who’s always blamed his problems on his body, then loses 100 pounds and looks like everyone else. You got what you said you wanted, buddy. So now what?

I guess what I’m saying is, maybe I’ve spent too much time skittering along the surface of my life, with minimal effort. And now that the headwind is here, maybe now is the time to start paddling harder and see where I get.

Comments

[Chookooloonks]

Can't wait to see where you land, friend.

[Louise]

You'll figure it out. And you'll probably just wake up one day and realize that you've figured it out, but not be sure about when it happened.

You think, therefore you are, and you definitely will be.

[Ladybug Crossing]

Extra time sounds great. Just don't fill it up with work.

[SciFi Dad]

I wish I could offer some words of encouragement or deep, soul-reaching insight, but I can't. What I can say is that you seem to be handling this situation a whole lot better than I would. Hopefully, you'll figure out what to do with all that free time, and hopefully, it won't just be hookers and blow.

[Helen]

Read SoBig by Edna Ferber! It talks about the same things...that maybe what you are willing to fight for is where your passion lies. It has taken me a while to realize that it hasn't been a bad thing to have to struggle for what I want.

That separation from the children can be so bittersweet and it's kind of like the feeling that comes after you take a test you had to study really hard for...it feels a little empty for a moment, but then you start doing all the things you liked doing before.

[Petunia]

Sometimes change forces us to go on out into the world and find out who we really are. The journey CAN be a good thing.
---P, nee French

[Wa]

I don't think skittering has occurred. Your kids are your current. You couldn't skitter if you wanted to. There will come a time when that current runs out, but not yet. See, your metaphors are not tortured. Mine belong in GITMO.

[Sheryl]

Change is good and hard. Hope is a thing with feathers.

[Shula]

Go for it, LOD.

Paddle like a motherfucker.

[Shula]

Oh, and love the header with the sailing boat.

[Jennifer H]

(@ the last paragraph): Engaging your core, indeed.

Also, @SciFi Dad last sentence: Well, not JUST.

[PooMaster]

I know exactly where you are coming from I am on about 7 weeks and I really have nothing. I just know it can not get worse and if it does that is why there is Jack Daniels and shot guns I have just been reading a lot it helps. Although there is not really part time in my case it is more like every other weekend off good luck and keep your head up shit happens for a reason if my life never got so fuck up I would never have had my kids.

[Alli]

Just because your on a schedule now does not make you part time.
Life is like a box of chocolate - oh, no wait that's a simile.