Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.”
― Thomas à Kempis
I’m sitting on the express bus, heading home on a bright, breezy, Friday afternoon. I am listening to the new Mumford & Sons, shameless plug, and watching the world go by, feeling pretty damn good. My mind drifts off to thoughts of the upcoming weekend, two days of down time, spending time with my beautiful Wife and amazing children, and dreading the thought of it. Now, now, before I’m branded a complete heathen, and publicly shamed for not appreciating the gifts bestowed upon me, allow me to explain further.
You see, if I’m to be completely honest, quite often the weekend is filled with false promise. The promise that I, as a Father and Husband, make to myself each and every Friday. That this will be the weekend that I remain calm and patient, no matter how many things do not go as planned. The promise, that this weekend, I will not raise my voice in anger or protest. The promise, that this weekend I will pay more attention to the needs of my family, I will listen more attentively, and enjoy them for being them. The reality is that by late Sunday night, I will be beating myself up for not living up to my promise. I love and adore my family, which is why it is so confusing and frustrating to me, that I cannot fulfill my promise. I just can’t seem to find the right balance of doing what I need to do, and what I want to do. I’m quite confident that any parent reading that last sentence, is nodding along with empathy.
Let’s start with the promise of Friday evening. Remember Friday nights? Can you remember coming home from work on a Friday; you had that extra pep in your step, didn’t you? Maybe grab a quick shower, grab a bite to eat, maybe even have a drink or two. I can vaguely remember that version of a Friday evening, it’s like remembering a beautiful girl you saw in a bar once. You can remember that she was beautiful, but the details have been diluted through the years. Was she a blonde, was she tall, did she have an accent? It doesn’t matter; you just know that you saw her once, and that she was lovely. That is how I feel about Friday evening nowadays. Because the reality of Friday night is now the following, argue over what/where to eat, spend a miniscule amount of quality time with the kids, fight them into bed, take a shower, and walk the dog. OK, now I get some time to relax, hold up, how did it get to be 10 o’clock already?? Wait, I forgot to do the dishes, and I really should get the laundry started for the weekend. Ok, so 11 o’clock, now where was I? Why am I yawning already, just a few years ago I would be just getting the night started. Well, I was up at 5:30, maybe I should get to bed soon, the twins will be up at 6:30, and I want to be in a good mood tomorrow, so I can enjoy our time together. Does this evening sound familiar to any parents out there? I thought so.
So, this is the genesis of where the promise begins to break down. Technically, no one is at fault. I mean, there are only so many hours in a day, and some things just have to be done before others. That would be the rational way of looking at it. To an irrational person, who is also a borderline control freak, it is the unraveling of the entire weekend. You know that old expression, which states that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, well that is me in a nutshell. I know how the weekend will play out, give or take a few hiccups, yet I still can’t come to terms with it.
The weekend has become the 800 pound elephant in the room; it should not be this way. I want to be able to roll with the punches and be more light of heart. I want to feel as if I have time for everything, and that I’m not facing down an hourglass that is racing to Sunday night. I want to go on family excursions because I want to, not because it’s what families are supposed to do. I want the pictures we take to be real, not where I take 38 photos of the twins, just to get one of them looking in the same direction, never mind smiling. To paraphrase from a favorite Radiohead lyric, “I don’t care if it hurts/I want to have control/I want a perfect body/I want a perfect soul”. Skip the perfect body part; I’m taking a loss on that one no matter how hard I work on it. But, this is what I strive for, and my family deserves it. They are amazing, and the truth is, they are really fun to be around. They should be treated accordingly. Now, I’m not saying that every weekend I am at my worst, but I certainly rarely reach my best, and that is simply not good enough.
And the fact remains that it is a pretty good weekend to have, some parents are not fortunate to be home together as a family unit on the weekends, so why can I not just count my blessings and enjoy it. I guess I am guilty of wanting more, of wanting it all. I want to be a great Dad, a great Husband, and while at the same time doing the little things that make me happy. Now, I’m sure that many parents struggle with the same dilemma; the difference is how they handle it. Hopefully they handle it in a more mature and appropriate manner than yours truly. I would love to stand up and testify that I handle this with impeccable grace, well, that would be an outright lie. Unfortunately, I often become surly, short tempered, and honesty, downright nasty. I can be a monster to live with at times, it doesn’t make me proud to state that, but I have to be honest. I can see it in the frustrating looks my Wife gives me, I can see it in the hurt in my kids eyes, when I get upset with them, or worse yet, when I ignore them all together. Knowing that there are times that my Wife wishes the weekend would hurry up and pass is painful, and I am ashamed that I make her feel this way. I know that she has some empathy; she knows how hard it are to be all things to everyone just as much as I do. But, it is upsetting to her just the same. As they say on G.I. Joe, knowing is half the battle.
I guess the long and short of it, is that I am striving to be the perfect parent. I realize that this is an impossible task, like a surfer riding a board against against the waves, so to speak. This is all about trying to find that perfect balance, trying to find the sweet spot on the wave that will allow you to enjoy the view for as long as possible. Eventually the wave will crash, they always do. But, I will never stop trying to catch that perfect wave, the life I have, and love is worth the effort. I will try to take more deep breaths, to count to ten more, to not sweat the small stuff. So, this weekend I will smile more, laugh more, relax more and appreciate more, I promise.