Our Own Country from cshindle1 on 8tracks.

It’s the still of the night where I find some of my deepest and most introspective thoughts and dreams. It’s typically the weekend where I can really afford the time to let go of my conservatisms of being equipped to head to work and be responsible. It’s the kind of night where I’ve been able to sit back and reflect on the aspects of my life which are truly most valuable.

I don’t get a lot of time to do it. The weekends are finite and my energy level and inspiration are much more endangered than ever before. That’s what happens when you’re a dad. Not that it takes chemical stimulation, but I’ve been able to unlock some of my deepest soulful feelings with the help of inebriants. Tonight is no different. And with that, I’m caught thinking about my fortunes and how I’ve never really publically let down my veil of secrecy on this blog.

I spend a lot of time pontificating about what I think life is, my lessons I glean from my kids, and how much I love the music and hate ‘the Man.’ Tonight, I spent the evening watching a chick flick. And normally this would mean nothing, but I also stumbled on to a song earlier while working on a Saturday for the man which seemed to prime to proverbial pump of inspiration. This is an entry to the love of my life that has saved me from everything I thought that would take my life.

If I can start with the simplest message; I love you. And this isn’t enough. I still don’t measure up. I think we both know that the last few months have been difficult by our standards. I haven’t been the most open. My communication has been less than efficient. I know I could’ve explained things better, expressed things clearer, been more transparent with my feelings. You could’ve been more connected to me. I’ve felt your distance, like a cold highway to nowhere at times. Some may have been my gross misinterpretation of reality. To that I’m guilty. But some is the plateau of complacency a relationship can reach at times when life trumps teamwork.

Tonight is my night to sidestep the routine and seize that late night moment of tranquility and inspiration to eloquently plant the seed of confidence and concern.

There’s a contentment that you reach in a relationship and I suppose at times it’s easy to misconstrue for complacency. After all, we’re not the youngsters who had the knotted up sexual tension as a result of bad timing and inappropriate circumstances. As everyone knows, I’m still that young boy that met you years ago and hung onto the gleaming hope that you would give me the time of day. Now that I know the time of day and the clock seems to always be ticking forward despite how hard I dig my heels in, we’re growing up and those innocently guilty years are behind us.

And that’s OK. And as easy as it sounds, we can’t lose the intimate focus of love on each other. It’s easy to look in the rear view mirror and evaluate the road that you’ve driven over these years. And it’s obvious that my metaphoric driving hasn’t been the safest or the most insurable. Before you, the official you, I’ve wrecked many a car. My journey has been riddled with horrible decisions where it’s cost me sanity, self respect, and dignity. All for the thrill of the speed of life. And interestingly, coincidentally, or even karmically, you’ve always been in the traffic jam of my life. It took me years to figure out the direction it would take to find the true depth of love.

Shit it may have been a dozen years of criss-crossing you during the gridlock of our relationships. It was easy to wave out of the window and wonder what it would be like to be in the same car. Only years later we are now caught in traffic together. Enough with the car metaphors. Get to the point.

I wish I could. I used to be eloquent. I could tell the story, elevate the audience to a new level of thinking, and connect them to something so deep. I’d been told that I could recite the alphabet and people would listen on the edge of their seats waiting for that next letter. Tonight, I’m struggling to put it all together. I hate not feeling like I can tell you in words how I feel. It’s hard knowing that you feel something so strong and so deep and you’re not able to effectively and eloquently communicate to the one person that needs to know it more than anyone else.

What I know is this:

No words are enough. Nothing I can write here will ever do justice the level of the deepest most soulful love I have for you. It’s more than a peck the cheek or the firm embrace. It’s more than the stern discipline that we team together on our boys. It’s more than the tender kiss on your neck. Even with a vivid imagination, I can’t even approximate a life where you and I don’t drive together. There’s that car metaphor again. If I could just tell you without words. But I don’t know how. What I do know that is that I hold you above everyone and everything.

You represent everything I’d sacrifice everything for. It’s a unit of teamwork where confidence overrides anxiety. I’m learning everyday that the novelty of intrigue and the unexpected can be happily superseded by the hands of time and lovely comfort.

What I’m learning while busy performing superhero-like airframe saving activities is that if I don’t shoehorn my vacation into the corporate schedule, I’ll never get a moment to enjoy my summer, or even wipe my own ass. Over the last month or two, I’ve squinted more due to the screen of my laptop more than the glare of the summer sun. All that being said, I forced the hand of the Man and took time off to spend the day with my children.

With my wife out of town, I relied on my parents to cover for me while I was shackled to my desk. However, I was able to get Friday off from the office. I had big plans for the boys and me. We never really get that uninterrupted alone time to be together. Some of it is that we typically do functions as a family unit, I’m generally overworked, and Son #2 is a chore to take out in public when he’s awake.

On Thursday, I had the honor of waiting until about midnight until I fully knew I had Friday off. Fortunately, things lined up and I was able to spend some absolutely great time with my two sons. Good thing too because I had all ready thrown down the opportunity to my oldest son to go to the Museum of Flight. As I loaded both boys in my car that morning, I worried about the youngest because this could have been on hell of challenge if he made his mind up that this wasn’t where he wanted to be.

I packed the stroller for Son #2 because it effectively works as a wheeled personal immobilization device. I could keep him contained if shit got crazy. Both boys, especially Son #1 were in awe over all of the aircraft in the museum. Son #2 was even let out of his containment device to climb on aircraft and spread his proverbial wings. We had a blast checking everything out. Son #1 really liked the WWI aircraft and the children’s section where he could fold paper airplanes. Both kids really enjoyed the experience so much that they were bummed when I suggested we leave. I could sense the fatigue in them and to avoid a cosmic meltdown, I suggested we go to the gift shop and then on the lunch.

The gift shop only cost me two die cast aircraft, an AA DC-10 and the Space Shuttle. The lunchtime decision from Son #2 was for chocky milkshakes at McDonald’s. Of course, I’m very focused on nutrition so I made sure these shakes were complemented with French fries and chicken nuggets in all of their deep fried goodness. We opted to transit through the drive thru and head back to the grandparents’ house. To this point, everything was great. Obedient and content kids. A patient father. As we approached the point of ordering, I made one request of them, “Don’t get into combat in my backseat when we have to order. I want to be able to order without the threat of nuclear war.”


Consider that last sentence in to foreshadowing of what happened next. No sooner did the drive thru jockey say ‘Welcome to McDonald’s’ when Son #2 let out a blood curdling scream. I was sure Son #1 did something to him so they both got a love tap. So I ordered lunch for us all but couldn’t hear one word that the dude on the other end of the intercom said. To make matters just a little bit worse, I told Son #1 since he made his younger brother scream, that he wouldn’t receive lunch. I suppose that didn’t help the moment. Ultimately, we all calmed down and drank our milkshakes and ate our French fries.

On to the next day, where we had a lesson on how to pour a new concrete slab for the patio in the backyard. Both boys contributed by staying out of the way and not stepping in the wet concrete. The only moment where there could have been an emergency room trip is when Son #2 decided to hang on the side of the wheel barrow full of rock which caused it to tip. As it tumbled over, we had a near miss of the little boy. The whole experience scared the shit out of him but we had no casualties.

Later that night, the three of us hopped up on the couch and watched a bike movie. I’m always blown away by how intensely they watch my bike movies. As we watched, we talked about our upcoming vacation to Whistler. It’s a week away and we’re all really excited. Especially me. Son #1 is counting down the days just like me now. And as predictable as rain in Seattle, Son #1 was hungry. When asked what he’d like to have for dinner, he emphatically answered, “TOSTADAS!”


Even Son #2 was on board too and excited for tostadas. Over dinner, we talked more about the upcoming vacation. But the real conversation revolved around how we really love tostadas and these were the ‘best’ we ever ate. Because they were so good, the conversation took a turn to how many tostadas either of us could eat. While Son #1 never explicitly declared a quantity, he made work of about six Son #1-sized tostadas. Not bad work. Because of his championship eating pedigree, he chose to challenge me. As I walked back in to the kitchen to prepare another for myself, Son #1 stepped up his game and told me that there was no way I could eat ‘infinity and beyond’ tostadas.

That sounds like a challenge. But little did he know that despite his overzealous challenge to his old man, he didn’t clarify a time to achieve such a lofty milestone. I’ll hit that mark, even if it takes forever.

It was a great weekend with my boys. It’s hard to be a working dad and have the energy to pull off fun and guidance when you’re buried in your day to day work. You bring that stress home and it consumes you to a point where you are nearly blind to the subtleties of life’s little miracles. I was lucky this weekend to impede my obsession with monitoring my work. I focused solely on them. And the one thing I noticed over the past days was that Son #1 monitors me, my actions, what I say, what I do, and where I am. He’s getting to be a little boy that needs more of ‘me’ in his life. And while I’m always here and around him, it’s more about the guidance and confidence a father can give a son. He’s much more in tune with who I am these days. That being said, it made it even more powerful to be with him this weekend and have so much fun.