Tuesday after the Monday after a weekend of domesticity and drunkenness. Many things going through my head today.
I just finished a wonderful book, Pawn in Frankincense, after plodding through it for the past six months. Reading is one of my greatest passions and I mourn the fact that I don't have the time to do it as much as I did before my son came along. (That book should have taken me a week, max, to plow through.) I am certainly not bemoaning the fact that I have progeny to carry my name forth unto eternity; I just miss sitting down, uninterrupted, for three or four hours at a time and losing myself in a book.
I felt really good last night after spending an hour cleaning up the kitchen. There were chicken noodle soup stains on the stove that were almost a week old. Our countertop had not been clear of dishes for a few days and the stainless steel handle on the refridgerator had nearly a full meal of 'stuff' stuck to it. This sort of accomplishment would not normally have given me the sense of satisfaction that it did last night.
Amy has found a new passion in scrapbooking. The first year of our son's life will be immortalized in paper, stickers, stamps, doo-dads and photos sporting appropriately witty quips. This is a good thing. And her search for a part time job has come to a close ere it even began. She'll be nannying for our next door neighbours. Their daughter is four months older than our own son and Mrs. Neighbour is going back to work next month. Amy will get monthly cash for heading next door to do what she does all day at our house for free right now. We're both tickled at that. Look out Mastercard! We'll have you paid off before Junior goes to college now!!
I have a passion for playing squash. The middle of next month will see one full year since I last stepped onto a squash court to lunge and flick and parry and joust. This makes me sad. Similarly, I have not run for several months now. My level of fitness is quickly deteriorating and, with it, my omnipresent ebullience is becoming harder to bring to the fore. (The only plus I see to this is that I have promised my wife that she can wax my chest just as soon as I get a 6-pack; or at least a flat stomach. That'll show her!) I was very proud of myself when I could claim to have lost 60 pounds after peaking at 240 midway through university. (Beer and wings after class, anyone?) A healthy combination of squash play and running were the key ingredients in that.
I have found that vicious circles can take a positive spin, too. The more I exercised, the more I wanted to. I initially tricked myself into getting fit by disguising it as having fun. I fully realized what a runner's high was at the end of my first half-marathon. (I nearly puked and almost passed out while sitting in the porta-potty at the finish line, but there really was a distinctive sense of euphoria that I had previously never experienced.) And the more I enjoyed the exercise I was getting, the healthier I chose to eat and the easier it got to do so.
Mind you, I was single and without chitlins at the peak of all this. There certainly are sacrifices that must be made for introducing elements into your life that are of burgeoning import and they will invariably usurp some of the priority previously occupied by other elements. What is important is that this be a willful and conscious progression. There is no doubt that my life is infinitely improved by the addition of my wife and my son. I had known for years that one of my heart's desires was to be a husband and a father. And that the two were inextricably intertwined. To be commendable at the one meant an equal amount of effort at the other. I've known this for years and rejoiced first at my marriage and then at the birth of my son, nine months later.
In order to be a commendable husband and dad, one must be cognizant of, or more appropriately: I must be cognizant of the fact that the requirements of the role never be seen as obligations. I am strongly reminded of a quote from the Steve Martin movie Parenthood, where, at one point, Martin's character has come to the end of of his rope and blows his lid at his wife in their bedroom. He closes the argument with, "My whole life is 'have to.'" I don't feel that way. Though I can empathize more now than when I first saw the movie.
It probably appears that I may be complaining a little bit here, but I'm really not. I feel out of balance. This reveals itself in frustration over things that are not frustrating. Intolerance at things that are quite tolerable. Anger at things that are trivial. Procrastinating at things that are important. (I should be working right now, not posting to my site.)
I'm only 29. (30 next month.) I already have a growing family. I have a home. I'm working my way up in the management of my company and, just as soon as I win the lottery, will be able to quit and dedicate myself to prose that is not quite as extemporaneous as this.
No, I'm certainly not in a position to complain. I've just got a little more balancing to do so that I don't step off the high wire and start to feel that I 'have to.'
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