It Was a Good Day

I had a fun afternoon with the kids today. I felt really appreciated as a dad. It was just one of those days where the boy just wanted to be me. And Riley had issues she wanted to talk about.

After getting in our recommended daily allowance of Quik Trip and the X Factor, Riley went to the quiet study room to do her homework and Blake, as usual, wanted to clean. What now? I told the kids we could have a sleepover with their friends on Friday if they helped clean up the house throughout the week. And, holy crap did that ever motivate the boy.

“Let’s clean dad. Come on.” You don’t have to ask me twice son. So, in very non-typical fashion, the two dudes of the house put on our metaphorical do-rags and elbow length rubber gloves. I might have just described Aunt Jemima instead of a cleaning lady, but the point is the kid was serious about getting the house sleepover-ready.

We cleaned his room. “What’s next dada?” To the bathroom we went. The kid scrubbed the sink and the floor, but wanted to keep on truckin. He showed the kitchen who was boss too. There were laughs and stories, but the coolest part to me was that it doesn’t matter what we do, he just wants to be around me. And it sucks to admit that I didn’t want that when I was his age. So, for the kid to be comfortable and himself around me is a pretty big deal. I know how lucky I am.

And the kid had a few moments tonight that got me. One was as they were heading to bed. We were going to call their mom and I said, “Have you guys ever heard of this lady called Mommy?” With perfect timing Blake said, “Yep. She’s real.” I love it that he’s funny and knows it.

The next moment came when he asked for a stuffed animal. It was a build a bear bunny with a KU jersey on. He started taking its shirt off and I asked, “What are you doing dude?” He said, “I don’t want it to be scratchy. I want to snuggle with something smooth.” Oh, Lord. Is that what he’s going to say to the girls? 

“Your shirt is too scratchy baby.” I’m not ready for him to date at age 7, but when he gets older should I tell him lines that work, like “Take off your shorts for a second. I want to see how much they weigh.” I’m classy.

Lastly, I poked my head into the living room from the kitchen where I’d been making pancakes and noticed that the boy had his journal out. He was writing. Just like his old man. I looked at it later and I’m not sure if it was song lyrics or what, but it was just another one of those confirmations that he wants to do the things he sees me doing…loving to spend time together, being funny and writing. The kid is great.

Riley too. She was so cute getting after her homework and then joining the cleaning party, laughing and joking along with us. But, then when bed time came around she wanted to have talk time. She’s got a friend issue that’s serious for the fourth grade. We got a chance to think it through together and talk about her options. When we were done she had the coolest look of appreciation on her face and opened her arms wide for a hug.

It was a good day.

And I love it that the kids get what I want for them already. I want them to laugh and enjoy life, but also want them to take on the hard stuff through writing or talking or whatever helps. I want to walk with them. They’re going to have their share of stuff to deal with from the divorce and life in general, but man I want them to have a head start in learning how to deal with stuff. And I want them to know that their dad is crazy about them.

I was writing earlier about two songs I heard back to back after dropping them off at school today. One was the Nine Inch Nails cover of Johnny Cash’s “Hurt” and the other was Florence and the Machine’s “Shake it Out”. Two lines about thoughts struck me. The Hurt line is, “Full of broken thoughts. I cannot repair.” And Aunt Flo sang, “Regrets collect like old friends. Here to relive your darkest moments. I can see no way. I can see no way.”

I wrote about the broken thoughts and regrets starting as kids. We have parents who tell us we’re pieces of shit literally or tell us with their actions. And we start life with a constant mind fuck. And it’s hard to unfuck ourselves. We don’t have confidence. We don’t believe in ourselves. We have broken thoughts that we think we can’t repair and movies that play in our heads of all the things we’ve fucked up. I said we a lot. Is it just me?

I know it’s not. That’s been the cool thing about no longer caring what people think about me. I’ll tell anyone all my shit. Because that’s been the way that I’ve learned to repair my broken thoughts…to stop reliving my darkest moments…to say fuck off to the demons that try to remind me of my regrets. I talk my way through it.

For almost five years I’ve been going to therapy. And I’ve written page after page to try to fix what was broken in me as a kid. So, to know how much I love my kids, but to wonder how well I’m communicating that and to have a day like today where I can literally see that they appreciate me and love me back. Daaaanggg Gurrrllll…that’s pretty fun. So, I hope they keep writing and talking and cleaning up the broken parts of their insides. Broken thoughts. Broken home. The Atkinsons as a people are fixer-uppers, but I’ve got a few tools in my box now, kiddos. Let’s get to work.