Month: June 2011
My oldest son has developed a seemingly irrational fear of thunderstorms. True, we’ve had our share recently. Already, it’s been an unusually active season, and summer just started. But still, we’re not even talking dark clouds and high winds–no, from the moment he gets up in the morning, he’s peering at the sky and if there’s a hint of even puffy white clouds up there, he heads for weatherchannel.com.
In my infinite parental wisdom, I’ve decided that I have no blame here. No, I blame school. I blame those snotty little five year olds who come on the P.A. system every morning and tell the rest of the student body what the weather is going to be. And then I blame the school system for too many dad-blamed storm drills. A couple of times this past school year, by the time he got off the bus in the afternoon, storms or no, he was already wild-eyed and near tears over the fact that there was a ‘chance’ of evening thunderstorms.
Now this goes hand in hand with another fear that seems to have come out of nowhere…and that being, that we’re going to leave him alone. I can’t tell you how many times in the past six months I’ve had to answer, “Where’s mommy?” or “Where are you going?” And heaven forbid, when you drop him off at the kids’ play area at the gym while you work out, that you’re even a minute later than you told him you’d be–NIAGARA FALLS!
OK, maybe I share a little of the blame here–but indirectly. As a child I was also a bit of a worry-er. But the things I worried about were just a tad more serious that this stuff. And by serious, I mean like, “Oh crap, what now?” kind of stuff.
But I didn’t worry about the weather.
In retrospect, I suppose if he’s going to be worried about something, it could be worse. But we’ve tried reassurance; we tried fussing at him; nothing seems to work. And while I know that mostly he’ll grow out of it, I know I still carry some of my childhood worries with me today. Even now, when I hear footsteps above me in the house coming towards me, for just a second, my gut clenches up and my heart jumps ahead. I wish I knew how to take these fears away from him.
Hmm, I’m sure I’m the first parent to have ever said THAT.
After reading a family member’s Facebook post today, I was moved to send her a link over to “I have to wipe his what?” blog. Which led me down a path, as these things often do, to sending my good friend David over at “Life of a Father of Five” a note saying, “Hey man, I don’t blog much anymore. You have my permission to remove my blog from your blog roll, GUILT-FREE!”
Which he declined on moral grounds stating that maybe one day I’ll get off my lazy butt and start blogging again. (I paraphrase)
I really should, and I know this. It’s not that I don’t have time so much as it that the little bit of free time I do have, I like to spend lying in my bed at night with my wife in hopes that she’ll take pity on this graying stallion and let me practice my “oh so overused” moves on her before she falls off to sleep by 9:30 p.m. So see, it’s really nature preventing me from blogging…not laziness.
In truth, I’ve started and deleted a number of posts in the last year. Usually, I recognize them for what they are–wallowing in self pity–and I, realizing how pathetic I sound, delete the post rather than joining the ranks of the millions of others out there similarly enamored of their own depression.
But I hereby declare, maybe not a resurgence, so much as an EFFORT…to blog more often. And while I realize I have probably lost every regular visitor I have, perhaps I’ll use my professional marketing skills to just blow this thing outta the water.
For now though, it’s 9:23, which means I only have about 7 minutes left to woo women. Which should be plenty of time…and then some.