What Bored Dad's Do

I admit, it has been a while.

I wanted this to be a weekly journal of sorts, something to read that would let my friends know how the boys and I are doing, and something to read that might give you a snicker or two at my own expense.  Come Christmas time though, I found I really had nothing more of interest to say.

Life has become routine.  The mistakes I make now are simply expressions of earlier mistakes I had hoped I would overcome.  I've fallen into a holding pattern and the system has stagnated.

And What a Glorious Stagnation.

The honeymoon is over.  If phase one of staying at home is intense passion for creating new experiences with your children, then phase two is the calm indulgence that follows.  A balance between sustaining the children and realizing that you (as an adult, and an individual) have an identity, an individuality, a purpose beyond serving others, and suddenly you find yourself indulging fancies that serve only you.

Where you used to plan your day to suit your kids, you're now planning your kids to help suit your day.  You have systems by which you are able to sequester moments to yourself to do the things that stimulate your intelligence and restore vigor to a life that has become routine.  Like a marriage, the early passion and immaturity of the early years is sedated, and allows for more distance, and more space for "self".

And like a basket full of peanuts at the pub, you convince yourself you will only eat an handful, and the next thing you know you need a second beer to wash the first basket down.  Then you find yourself battling the guilt of leaving all those shells behind.

December I joined a panel of teachers as a facilitator for an Open Online Course, and started the process of engaging education in a whole new way (for me).  This was the first peanut.  This created that desire to have another, and then another...

January found me writing a "poem-a-day" with a group of Australians in an online forum.  A creative outlet that flexed the brain-muscle.  I invented a new style of poem called "The Sudoku" complete with a programmed spreadsheet to help calculate the poem's structure.  If you put all the words in the poem nine to a line for nine lines you get a perfectly filled sudoku square (words in place of numbers).  I learned what a Sestina was, and how to write one.  On the side I rewrote "The Velveteen Rabbit" from the viewpoint of a teacher who yearns to become real... Stay at home parents should not have time for all this!

February I was invited to write a script for a friend who has won a grant to bring "Parkour" to the stage in Calgary.  March 30th is the deadline to have a show, thankfully I'm not involved with the production of it, just creating the words behind it.  The working title is called "Have Kourage".  Meanwhile this same friend had me dress as a "Sexy" Lumberjack at a Lise Watier new product release party.  Inspired by my rekindled manhood I promptly came home, installed a window in my back-door and converted a toilet to dual flush.

Sometimes My Reality is Like Your Imagination

Now in March I'm finding I've got that dry, parched feeling you get when you've eaten too many salted nuts, and I'm looking for something to wash it all down with... and thankfully I've found the restorative properties of my boys to be sufficient refreshment.  The next event to plan is a four-year old's birthday party.

I'm so stoked.

What Bored Dad's Do.
(Yes, that's fresh roasted Kale-Chip hair)

The party is to be a blend of engaging learning activities, collaborative and cooperative, that stimulate both the kinesthetic proclivities and intellectual capacities of my young men.  The event will be accompanied by a carefully constructed script, likely performed in costume... I look back on the selfish events of the past three months and realize that, as in all things, with proper reflection and firm grounding in "who you serve" those momentary relapses to self-indulgent fantasy can worked to polish the best parts of self so that our children can enjoy days dedicated to remembering the gift they were, how ever many years ago.