Sophie vs Haystack

Sophie vs Haystack
There are many pictures of Haystack Rock. This one is mine.

dread pirate foster’s fourth

Dread Pirate Foster’s 4th Birthday Party from ralph hogaboom on Vimeo.

Doap

So, there I am, shredding some pot-roasted pork for tonite’s Mexican meal, when Nels approaches. He just woke up, and he’s hungry. However, Nels understands that a trade must take place. Like the savages of old who traded valuable furs for gold trinkets, Nels offers me a toy ViewMaster and then says “Hung-ee?” Unfortunately, this savage can only speak broken English, and not enough for us to communicate fully. As for his native tongue, it’s a Godless, pagan one I do not comprehend.

This savage also understands intuitively the role that status plays in our modern world. At the end of the bath time, I prompt him “Say goodbye, soap.” He looks at the soap, but catches the trick. Addressing the Enhancing and Revitalizing shampoo with a serious look, he says “Good-bye, Dampoo.” Then, and only then, can he address the lowly surfactant with a simple “Good-bye, Doap.”

Uncomfortable

This is hard for me to admit.

When I’m at work, I’m a buoyant fount of comedy and helpfulness. I’m significantly less so at home.

I now generally have a tendency towards low self esteem. I default to Deny, Failure, and Loss. But as far as my fatherhood, I take it seriously. I put time and thought into my actions. I put a lot of work into it. To confess less than peachy at home is hard.

There was this conference I was going to go to. The Mankind Project. More of a ‘finding yourself’ retreat, but I imagine it as something with mannish versions of The Trust Game. One of the testimonies in the brochure I had read something like this:

“I was in wonderful relationships with my family, but I wasn’t expressing who I was. I had lost the exuberance of my youth, and this weekend I found that and am now sharing who I am with my family. It’s been life changing.”

I found some truth in that, in relation to the work/family dynamic. I mean, what is it about my Dadness that can’t be as lighthearted? A visitor wouldn’t see it. They’d see that I get down on my hands and knees and play – often, too much even. I get grass stains on my work slacks because of it. They’d see I let my kids climb all over me, and I make jokes often with my wife.

But it’s not the same, it’s not really me. It’s just a part of me.

The old me, before kids, was a bit flamboyant. I took better personal care of my self and how I dressed. I was a wise-ass, all the time. I was very upbeat and lighthearted. I really enjoyed being around myself.

I can’t tell where the darkness creeped in. I somehow became someone different at home. Please don’t misunderstand me – I don’t prowl the halls at midnight like a savage beast with blood dripping off my fangs. I get home and immediately pick up my kids in my arms, and go play. We set the table, we all have dinner together. I usually get to bathe both of them and put them to sleep. I Am Not A Dad Who Comes Home And Sits In A Recliner To Unwind. I strongly reject that concept.

What I’m trying to say, and what I fear will be misconstrued, is this:

I don’t understand why I act differently at home and feel less like myself. I don’t know where the real me goes, and I’m uncomfortable scared about that.

Having admitted this to myself, for the first time, I wonder what tonight will be like.