Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Monday, January 03, 2011
This is quite possibly the hardest letter I think I will ever have to write, or at least I hope it doesn’t get any harder than this. Although, by the time you read it, you will be much older and already know what I’m going to say, so that gives me some comfort that I’m not actually giving you any kind of breaking news.
Last year about this time, your Daddy moved out. He moved out for what was supposed to be a temporary separation. A way for us to work out our issues and come back together. He’s decided that he’s done trying to fix things with me. And we are in the beginning stages of the divorce process.
You should know this has absolutely nothing to do with you. I mean, it will affect you, obviously, but the reasons have nothing to do with you. I hope you can learn from our mistakes, and your marriage will be better for it. Not that I’m going to get into that here.
It hurts me more than anything to feel that I failed you. I failed to keep our family together. The things that were important to me, like waking up in your own bed on Christmas morning, having a special traditional Christmas morning breakfast or Easter morning breakfast every year are going to logistically not be possible. It hurts me to think I have to give you up every other weekend, even though I know you will be safe and loved. You’re my lumpy pancake, so I guess this will count as one of your lumps, it wasn’t the first, and it probably won’t be the last. I hope in the end, you won’t be any lumpier than anyone else’s lumpy pancake. Right now, my job is to raise you to the best of my ability not to be a schmuck. And I’m doing the best I can.
This month has been quite a whirlwind, mostly due to Christmas. You had all kinds of Christmas stuff this month and a few extra things too. We went on a hay ride through a neighborhood with the church group and saw a live nativity scene. Possibly the best nativity scene I’ve ever seen. They actually acted out the Christmas story as it was read aloud instead of just standing around. We also had my company’s children’s Christmas Party – which, as always is a mountain of sugar. Of course you thought the optimal attraction was the glass elevator in the lobby.
You also had your first dental appointment. You were extremely frightened, not helped by the fact that all the children’s books about visiting the dentist include cavities and drills. You finally agreed to open your mouth in exchange for some Kung Zhu pet armor and also if you would be allowed to lay on top of me. Your visit included neither cavities nor drilling, but did include a little scraping of your teeth, which you said did hurt. As we left, you declared that since you didn’t have any cavities you would probably never have to go to the dentist again. Nice try, my child, nice try. They’ll see you again in 6 months.
Beginning when your Day Care closed on the 23rd you and I spent the majority of the time together until this morning when I dropped you off at school. We played a lot and had a pretty awesome week, and we even took a trip to my college town. Sometimes I’m not aware of how much you are listening to me, but we went to the Bonfire Memorial and I explained to you what happened and how many people died. We went around the whole circle and looked in each arch. As we left you asked me questions about why they were building it wrong and what it looked like and how come they didn’t get burned. We stumbled upon a statue of the bonfire and I was able to explain to you about how they were building it, and the fact that they would build it completely and get off of it before lighting it. Later in the evening when we were talking about the bonfire memorial with my friends that we had met for dinner, you rattled off nearly all the information I had given you about the bonfire tragedy.
After a few hours of play at my friends’ house, we went through a drive though light display. You were almost asleep when we got there, although you livened right up for the lights. It was a nice display, although nowhere near as much stuff as the place you go in
This weekend I also began my, get off my butt plan, and intend to spend at least 30 minutes outside with you each day – when we have enough day light to do it. So on Saturday and Sunday we went out on the cul-de-sac and you rode your scooter around and I rode my bike around in circles. You made up races and games and changed the rules on me mid game (Calvin Ball, anyone?). I probably didn’t get my heart rate up that much, but at least I was moving, that was kind of the point. So even if you don’t know it, I want you to be my work-out buddy.