Growing My Ears Out

Writing is great for me for a lot of reasons, but one of my favorites is how it makes me more aware. When I’m getting my shit out in my morning stream of consciousness pages and writing here and there throughout the day my mind just seems to be less cluttered and more able to cut to what’s really going on around me. For example I just realized that was one fucking long sentence that might have made me sound like a know it all dick head. I don’t mean it like that.

Well, fuck it, who cares how I mean it, let me just get to what I’m talking about. Bed time last night. Blake was dragging his feet and not obeying when I told him to get his jammies on. He had his puh-yah-mas (that’s how my Norwegian grandpa used to pronounce pajamas) in his hand. I told him to go into his room and put them on. A few moments later, I checked on blake and he “lost” his pjs.

So, I realize looking back that I took the situation too literally. I kept trying to reason with him. “Blake…your pajamas were just in your hand. Your room is the only place you’ve been. Either you know where they are or it’ll take you two seconds to find them if you don’t.” I rested my case like a douchebag junior partner down at the law firm and closed his door firmly. A clap of the hands…there…that should do it.

No, it didn’t.

That was dad missing the point. Blake knew where his pajamas were. He knew I knew he knew where they were (huh?). What he was wanting was more daddy time. He wanted me to help him look for them. He was seeking out an activity with me. Why would he get his pajamas on and go to bed when he could play more with his daddy?

We had just spent a great hour at the park together while his sister was at Girl Scouts. Blake and I played soccer-ish…really we just made up games…we punted the ball to each other and every time the other person caught it, we each took a step back. Our record was 20 and then we started again.

By the end we were laughing and encouraging each other and the boy’s face was super red and his blond mop was caked in sweat. It was a good time. And there’s something about it being mutual that is healing for me and healthy for him. We just want to be together. We’re father/son and all that, but we also just enjoy hanging out.

So, when you’re 7 and you love your dad and it’s bed time…why wouldn’t you try to prolong it? I was caught up in him not listening, but there’s always a why. It’s not he’s just a little turd who’s trying to be difficult. He’s at home with me. He enjoys our time, but it always ends. He only comes home to dad half the time.

So, it’s pretty cool to me that the boy wanted to milk that time. And I was a little too hard on him…shutting the door and sternly saying he needed to listen to me. He knows. And he does listen. But, I need to listen back. We could have had another little moment where we worked together to find his jammies.

The time at the park was so fun. But, it can’t all be fun. We have to learn our lessons. Even dad. And I love those little moments where you can see what’s really going on with your little people. It’s pretty overwhelming to know he actually likes me. I’m in it with you kid. I’m not going to do everything right and neither are you, but we’re family and we work through stuff together.

The other parenting moment that happened yesterday was catching my daughter’s eye. I facebooked about it. She just seemed so old…super tall and mouth full of braces. Man, she’s only 9, right? But, that’s half way to 18. When did that happen?

That quality time that Blake craves…Riley does too. And I need to take advantage of the limited time I have with them. Riley is an all star. Of course she got voted to student council. Of course she got another A. Blake craves and is obvious about his need for attention. But, Riley comes off as the strong one. She’s really mature and aware for her age, but that doesn’t mean that just because she’s not hiding her jammies like Blake did, she doesn’t long for daddy time the same way her little bro does.

With Blake it’s easy. Put a ball in his hand. Go to the park. With Riley, it’s harder to figure out what daddy time looks like. Their mom has been really nice about letting me take some of her time so that each of us can alternate having one on one time with the kids. It’s great for everybody. And has helped Riley and me see that our time is going to Target. Going to Walmart. Going to the store.

It’s not the activity itself, but what happens while we’re there. We talk. And she can talk in a way that she doesn’t when we’re not alone. This friend did this. And this boy is so funny. She let’s stuff out. And that feels good to both of us. She knows I value real. And go to therapy. And write a lot. That interests her. She loves “talk time” as she calls it.

But, like I already wrote about this week, she’s starting to ask questions that feel way beyond her age level. I want her to be my little girl, but she wants to know about teen moms. So, I need to get ready. How long will it be before she gets facebook? How long before she reads my blog? Whoa. I wasn’t ready to think about that. There’s stuff in here that isn’t meant for her ears yet. But, at the right time I want her to know the whole story. So, talk time is getting us ready for those chats.

I want both the kids to know that sure, I have things to say and I’m the dad and all that, but me talking is only so valuable. The important thing is to listen to them. And to figure out how to listen to stuff they don’t have words for yet. They have feelings that are really hard for them to articulate. So they hide their jammies. Divorce fucking sucks. But, I have to put myself in spots where I can be aware of where their hearts are breaking this week. I love my little Matthew Blake Atkinson Juniors. I wish them a healthy life. And want to put in the time it takes, writing and otherwise, to grow the ears that they need their daddy to have.