The New Family Game Night

Last time I said I was going to explore my single life and what I’m going to make of it but that is taking more thought that I originally…uh…thought.  I need some more time to get it all straight but I am trying to put at least two of these posts out each week and I’m behind so let me make a slight digression and talk about something else right now.  Namely: games.

I had my daughters this weekend and my oldest wanted to have a family game night.  First of all, I was happy to hear this.  For the most part, my daughters now have two families. The one with their mother and one with me and it warms my heart to hear her still refer to family and include me in it.  I know that’s kind of silly on my part but when you are not around your kids 24 hours a day; you tend to think you’re second fiddle when it comes to real family.  Again, silly but it’s the world I live in right now.

Second, we needed games to play.  I have some but whatever games we had for the kids, the MMC has possession of them.  Not that we had a lot.  Our girls are really just getting to the age where they want to play games so our collection of kid based games has mainly been Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders.  Thus, we ventured to the store to get a couple more.  Our picks?  Hungry, Hungry Hippos and Kerplunk. 

I remembered these games as a kid so I was kind of excited to play them again because it’s been so long and I wondered if my kids would get as big a kick out of them.  We played Hungry, Hungry Hippos (HHH) first.  Let me say one thing about this game that I didn’t remember (or cared about) as a kid: it is LOUD!  My house, with hardwood floors and no curtains, amplifies just about any sound and the constant banging that is the main part of gameplay in HHH came across as a typical night in the streets of Beirut (assuming there is still a lot of gunfire going on in Beirut.  I’m really not sure but it’s my go to city when it comes to noisy warfare). 

Yes, HHC is a loud game and perhaps I’m too old but I eventually grabbed the ear buds from my iPod to wear while playing and it made it much more bearable.  At least as far as the sound is concerned.  The other problem I had with the game is the hippo head lock that occurred often in the midst of playing.  This is where the hippo head and neck gets out of whack and you can no longer control it with the flipper switch that is essentially lodged in the hippo’s rear end.  You have to pause your game to pull the neck out to get it to snap back into place.  Meanwhile all of the marbles are being eaten up by your opponents, namely my daughters who could give a crap about my lack of being able to play.  Since I am easily frustrated by little things, this served to annoy me to no end especially since it fell on me to unlock not only my hippo but my daughter’s hippos as well.  I momentarily became a veterinarian in the HHH world.

I wondered if both the noise and the constant hippo head lock was a problem with the original game.  I tend to think that stuff like this is being made much more cheaply today than back when I was a kid.  Call it old man syndrome, but I’m betting there was better hippo eating game craftsmanship back in the late 70’s when it first came out (yeah, I went to the Hungry, Hungry Hippos Wikipedia page for that bit of info).  I would love to compare an original game to the new one just to see.  Wonder if I could get one on eBay?

And while I’m on eBay for an original HHH game, I’d also like to get an original Kerplunk game too.  We played this one next and I was relieved because it wasn’t anywhere near as noisy but still I became frustrated with the set up.  If you don’t remember, Kerplunk is the game where you have a cylinder with a bunch of holes going around the middle.  You put a bunch of sticks through those holds and then put marbles on top.  The challenge is to pull out the sticks without any of the marbles falling.  The person with the most marbles at the end loses.  The problem with today’s version from what I remember about the one I played as a kid is that the sticks are now made of a bendable plastic instead of the original wooden ones.  When I was a kid, these were basically long toothpicks but now they are almost soft plastic. I can only imagine that some kid somewhere poked an eye out with toothpick-like ones and the family sued Hasbro or Mattel or whoever made the game and some governing body over children’s games said the sticks had to be safer thus the bendable, plastic ones were made. 

I’m not opposed to making things safer although I don’t remember any fatalities back when I originally played the game but these sticks are very frustrating to use during the set-up.  You see, since they bend, it’s hard to put them in a hole on one side and get them out of a hole on the other side of the tube.  When they were long toothpicks, it was relatively easy but now they bend down, up or to the side based on what obstacles they encounter going in.  Not a big deal with the first dozen or so but after that it’s an exercise in patience and time consuming just to get the game ready to play.  I also noticed that by the next day, some of the sticks were permanently bent thus further adding to the challenge of getting the game set up. 

Regardless of this, however, the game was still fun and let’s face it, it has the best game name in the history of game names.  Kerplunk!  I wonder if that is a legal word to play in Words With Friends or Scrabble?  If ever get that collection of letters, I’ll let you know.  I kind of doubt it but isn’t “kerplunk” a fair word to describe the sound of something dropping especially in water?  I’m sure I’ll throw it out there and get the all too familiar (to me at any rate): “Sorry, kerplunk is not an acceptable word.”  I’m now looking forward to having a K-E-R-P-L-U-N-K in my virtual tray in Words With Friends to try it out.  Wonder how long that will take?  Considering the number of games I currently have going, probably not that long and if it is legal, I would get the chance to use all of my letters!  Man, I am going to keep that in my back pocket for sure.

So, the new Family Game Night, despite the frustrations, was a success.  The girls and I had fun and even carried it over to the next morning after breakfast with a couple rounds of each.  I did, however, have to take careful inventory of all the different marbles and bendy sticks when we were cleaning up to make sure I had a complete set when we played again.

Before we do play again, however, I think I’m going to see if I can get some felt or something like that to put across the bottoms of the hippos mouths to act as a silencer.  Either that or throw an old set of ear buds into the game box so I’ll always have them.  Yeah, I’m old.  Deal with it.  I have to.

One and a Half Months

As of this writing, I will have been in my house for about a month and a half.  I’m still getting used to it.  It’s weird being alone after being in a house that often was full of people and not just the MMC and my two girls, but other family, in-laws, friends, and neighbors.  Now I find times where I keep expecting someone to walk through the door.  Or while watching television, I go to say something about whatever I’m watching and realize there’s no one there to tell it to.  Not that that stops me anyway.  Maybe someone passing on the street far down at the bottom of the hill wants to know my TV musings.

Having an entire bed to me has been an adjustment I haven’t made.  I still sleep on one side, almost at the edge.  As I explained in Making the Spare Bedroom Your Bedroom, Spare, the girls used to sleep with us and most times I could never get comfortable enough due to all the kicking and hands in my face in the middle of the night.  So I would either be almost falling off the bed or I just went into the other room. I still think this was a defensive maneuver by my wife allowing the girls to sleep in our room.  Nothing like adding two warm bodied people to help fortify the emotional wall you’ve built around yourself. 

Anyway… now that I always sleep on my own, I don’t take advantage of having a queen sized bed by sleeping in the middle or diagonally across it.  I sleep on the edge, sometimes teetering off of it as if I was being pushed out by my sleeping children.  Primarily I think it’s just because the edge is closer to the night stand thus easier to do things like reaching for books, turning off the light or turning off the alarm in the morning.  If I was in the middle of the bed, I would have to struggle to get over to do any of those tasks.  I also think it is just habit.  I’m used to being on the side so that’s where I am most comfortable.  I have no idea what I did when I was single but I probably stuck to one side then too. 

Of course this makes me feel like I’m wasting my bed.  I was going to buy a new king size bed when I moved in but they’re freakin’ expensive so I have been using the bed that was in our spare room only I put a pillow top cover thing on it to make it more comfortable as it was a very firm mattress.  That made a huge difference so I have temporarily ceased by bed search.  Now I’m thinking that if I am only using one edge of the bed, maybe I should just get a twin mattress.  That way I would be using ALL of the bed, there just wouldn’t be that much of it.  Wouldn’t THAT be impressive when I finally reenter the dating scene and reach the point where I bring a woman home? (This is far, far, far into the future and quite possibly an alternate reality, by the way)  “Hey, baby…here’s my twin bed.  We’ll need to decide who’s on top right now.  Let me just pull back my Spider-Man sheets and my blankie.  Do you want the night light on…or off?” 

No, I guess I’ll stick with the bed I have and eventually get a new one.  I still need to put furniture in the spare room so that’s the ultimate fate for the bed I have.  It came from the spare room and will ultimately die in there.

Outside of the previously mentioned spare room, I pretty much have settled into the house.  All of my pictures are up (although I could use more), living room, dining room, breakfast nook, kitchen, girls bedroom and office are all decorated and squared away.  My bedroom is pretty bland though.  Yes, I have the half-used queen sized bed but the only other things in it are a small nightstand and a tall dresser.  I really don’t need anything else, but the room looks pretty empty.  I guess a king size bed would help fill it up and maybe if I got a new dresser set where I had a tall dresser and a long one, that would do the trick.  Just not sure what I would put into these pieces of bedroom furniture.  As part of my 1.5 months, I took out the pathetic lone wire rack in the master bedroom closet and put in a nice “closet organization system” that gave me two racks for hanging my clothes, a long shelf along the top and a single set of shelves going from the top of the closet down to the floor.  I also put in a set of hooks for belts, hats, etc. so I am set on clothes storage.  Having more furniture to put clothes in isn’t really needed but it would help fill up my room.  I guess other options would be an easy chair or something like that but you know what that ultimately means don’t you?  Just something to pile my clothes onto.  And when am I just sitting in my bedroom anyway?  If I want to sit, I’ll do it in the living room.  I just got a brand new leather couch that reclines.  Yes, I said reclines.  I may cheap out when it comes to getting new bedroom furniture but I will make my living room as comfortable as possible.

I still have to get the basement settled but I’m not in a big rush to do that.  As it is, I do need something down there to put an old TV I have on it. This is the TV I mentioned in Moving Daze Part 4.  It’s like 300 pounds since it’s the probably one of the last tube TV’s but it has a flat 38” screen.  Perfect for down in the basement until I upgrade the TV upstairs…which would probably be a long while.  I don’t have a 3D TV but if that is still a thing a year or so from now, maybe that is what I would upgrade to.  I still think 3D TV is a fad but maybe it’s a fad like the internet is a fad or toasters are a fad.  I dunno.

I guess when I look back at the 1.5 months and the fact that last night, I didn’t have any pressing unpacking or “settling in” to do, I should be proud of where I am.  A lot of people in this same state would still have boxes to unpack, rooms still unsettled and an array of pictures on the floor perhaps by the wall they are to be hung on but still unhung.  I guess it’s also easier for me to be settled in since I only have my girls with me every other weekend but still.  I think I opened up a can whoop ass on the house and came out looking pretty good.  I do still feel, however, a bit unsettled or uneven…like there is still stuff to do and while there are some small things, it’s nothing major.  Perhaps that unsettled feeling is something more than just unpacked boxes or an undecorated wall.  Perhaps it’s a sense that I need to make this house my home.  To do that, I need make my single life something more than every other weekend visitations and house settling but what should I make it?  Let’s explore that next time.

Meanwhile, I will try to become more centered by sleeping in the center of my bed but it won’t be easy.  I threw my shoulder out trying to reach the alarm clock this morning.  Oy.

 

Sparks

Poets, authors and song writers have referred to love as a fire or a flame.  That’s a time honored and well put analogy.  It’s especially apparent when a love dies out and the flame gets smaller and smaller.  Just like a campfire that has been deprived of new wood to keep it going, the flame dies down but just when you think it’s completely out, a spark ignites and the flame comes back for a moment or two just to tease you into thinking it’s going to get stronger and keep going.

Yeah, love can certainly be like that.

Recently, something happened that sparked the dying embers of the fire that was the fuel for my marriage. I won’t go into detail on what it was, but the event was strong enough to reignite something I thought had been extinguished or was at least nothing more than smoldering remains.  The situation made me think that there was a chance the MMC and I could get back together again and those thoughts stopped me down for a night. 

For a while I stoked the small flame and wondered if I could make it bigger.  I thought about where I was with my new house, her in her new house and the house we had up for sale.  For a moment, I considered those to be obstacles too big to overcome but then I realized those were just things.  I could rent out the house I just bought and she, since she was only leasing, could probably get out of that and we could all move back into our old house.

The fire got bigger.

The notion of having my family back fanned the flames more and I thought maybe…just maybe there was a chance.  This hope for a chance caused the fire to become a bit hotter and I warmed myself in it. 

But then I thought if this spark really was an opportunity to reconcile, is it something I wanted to do?  The first, gut reaction was yes.  I would do anything to have my family back the way it was a few years ago and that’s when the fire started to falter. 

A few years ago. 

Back then, things were great.  My wife and I were in love and our youngest was just starting to develop into the wonderful little girl she is now (my oldest was already there and still is).  We did things a family did and there was never any thought it would ever end.  We would raise our girls in our house and then retire together in it, passing the time either in the rocking chairs on our front porch or on a cruise ship going to places we hadn't been before.

While those thoughts were great, I also thought about how things had been for the last year or so.  The fire died down a little more.  We both felt distant.  This was when I was traveling a lot and sensing things were different when I returned home.  I thought it was just me but as we all know now, it wasn’t.  I thought about how when presented with the idea of divorce, the MMC took to it like…well, if I can just beat this analogy further into the ground…a moth to a flame.  No chance for marriage counseling or trial separation; just straight to divorce.  Never any discussion on why she was unhappy or exactly what happened to drive her away.  Just end the marriage without any real reason why.  Is this the woman I want to go back to?  It’s almost a cliché but she’s not the woman I married and more than likely, I’m not the man she married either.  How could I be?  If I was, wouldn’t we still be together? 

The flame reduced to a flicker and eventually turned to smoke and dispersed into the night air.

I think that everyone who goes through a divorce, especially if they are the ones who are the “victims” of it, have these momentary sparks and they hope they can fan it into something more.  The truth is they are only that: sparks.  Not a raging inferno that could burn brightly for any length of time.  Just a spark that lights up the mind with thoughts of what could happen and possible futures of what could be and all the while we are blowing on it and shoving crumbled newspaper and twigs on it to get the flames to grow.  The truth is the fire is really a burning memory of the past and a hope to go back to the way it once was.  Unfortunately, we can’t go back to the past any more than we can burn a piece of wood twice.

I don’t care for these sparks.  I would prefer to mentally produce a bucket of water and pour it over the slowly cooling embers and put them out permanently.  It would make things easier. I am trying to face forward in all of this.  To take steps away from where the fire once burned and find a place to build a new fire but that’s a long hike on a path that hasn’t even been made yet. It’s a daunting task to blaze that trail and it’s hard not to look back to where things were once warm and cozy; to want to go back, sit there and see if I could get just a little more warmth out of it.  The problem is, there is no warmth there.  The sparks are just flickers of false hope and ideas that get into your head.

The situation that started all this came and went and I got on with clearing away the brush and debris that lay before me on my new path.  I’m sure I’ll hear another pop or crackle and see a flicker from that fire again.  Next time, however, I will try to leave that spark behind me and continue my search for a place to build a new fire.   

 

P.S. - I hope all my fire references in this post didn't burn you out.  ::chuckle::

Lawn Moaner

I did not want to mow my lawn.

As I looked down from the front porch onto the steep incline that was my front yard, sweat trickled from my forehead, down my nose and onto the painted steps on which I stood.  My eyes darted back and forth from the trees to the rocks randomly peeking up from the high grass that covered the slope.  This was a yard for skiing, not mowing.  I glanced ever so carefully to my left and when I did, I knew it was a mistake.  There along the edge of my property line, the yard dropped down into my neighbor’s yard, each plot divided by boulders and more rocks.  I gasped audibly.  I turned around and headed back into the house.  I had a marathon of The Office I could watch instead.  The yard…and my fears…would have to wait.

While perhaps a bit dramatic, this basically summed up my thoughts on mowing the lawn at my new house; steep hill in the front, continuing along the sides and rocks surrounding all of it.  The house I lived in previously was on a hill as well, but it was a much bigger hill with a noted but gradual slope that was easy to navigate.  In my old house, I had a yard tractor (or a riding lawn mower but “yard tractor” sounds much manlier).  I loved mowing that lawn because I would just plug in my iPod and ride around the yard for about an hour or so.  When my daughters were younger, they used to love to ride on my lap while I was mowing the lawn which I had no problem letting them do as long as I wasn’t going up or down the hills. 

In my new house, however, the CPS would be called if I let my daughters ride with me while mowing that lawn.  Heck, there’s no way I would use the lawn tractor at my new house.  Even without the steep hill in front and on the sides, the yard is much too small for something like a yard tractor.  I needed a push mower but with that type of mower there came a clear and present danger.  All of my thoughts on the matter were around my fear of trying to cut the grass, slipping, rolling down the hill, bouncing off the rocks and into an oncoming UPS van.  Below is an artist’s depiction of me mowing my new yard.  This picture was made using nothing but the finest graphic artist software available to me:

As you can see, it’s pretty steep and the lawn tractor would have been useless trying to get up that hill unless my goal was to be crushed underneath the tractor.  Then it would have been perfect!  And as I said, the yard is just not big enough to justify using a riding lawn mower even on the flatter areas of the yard (primarily in the back).  No, using that tractor would have been like trying to convince a Republican to vote Democrat purely by posting things on his Facebook wall:  useless.

I put off mowing the lawn for well over a month from when I moved in and even then, it needed to be cut.  I kept using excuses like moving in, getting settled, having the girls over for the weekend and taking naps as reasons not to mow it.  Finally, however, it needed to be done.  Fall was approaching and soon that tall grass would be entwined with leaves making the mow that much tougher.  In order to mow the lawn, however, I needed a machine with which to mow said lawn. 

You see, with a lawn like mine, your typical (and cheaper) mowing option wouldn’t work.  The mower had to be self-propelled but the wheels in the back needed to do the propelling, not the ones in the front.  Rear wheel mowers are probably around $75-$100 bucks more than front wheel ones.  Then I needed to decide what type of starter:  normal prime-choke-and pull, no prime/choke, or electric start.  I decided on no prime/no choke and pull although I seriously considered the electric start but I read most of the starting mechanisms go out within the first month or two and then you’re left with a normal pull start, so I just fast forwarded to having that.

Then there was a litany of other options to consider: how much power; does it include a place to screw in a water hose on the mower deck to easily clean the blades; is there a mulch kit included (I never bag); and how many cup-holders does it have?  All of these are very important things to consider when buying a new lawn mower these days.  The only problem is that I used my “consumer research” as yet another excuse to not get out there and mow the damn lawn.  I just didn’t want to face that Everest like front lawn!  Meanwhile, the grass is growing higher than most of the hair styles of 80’s metal bands. 

Finally, I bought a new mower and yesterday evening, I went out and tackled the task that has been taunting me for the past month.  After putting in oil and gas into the new lawn mower (and it had that new lawn mower smell everyone likes), I fired it up (on the first pull, no less) and started mowing.  I decided to take the flatter areas down first.  No need in killing myself so early in the process.  This way, when the morgue came to collect my body they can comment on how nice MOST of the yard looked. 

The mower bogged down a few times as it choked on grass that really could have used a scythe rather than a mower but Craftsman didn’t make a powered scythe so I kept restarting the mower.  I finally got a feel for when it was about to start bogging and tilted the mower up to clear out the clogged up grass.  I have never had a rear wheel drive mower and let me tell you something, I had to hang on for most of the job.  Again, it’s probably just something I need to adjust to but that thing was dragging me across the lawn in some spots.  I couldn’t believe how fast it was going. 

Okay, enough was enough; I needed to tackle that hill.  I started making passes along the edge, trying to get a feel for it.  Well, when I felt the mower starting to go almost 90 degrees downhill, I had to adjust.  The rear wheel drive was mainly aiding the mower in getting downhill faster at the angle I was trying to cut.  No mower based propulsion system was going to overcome gravity it appeared.  I then started pointing the mower straight ahead and went back and forth in swatches along the hill.  This worked better but I wished my mower had a powered reverse. I don’t even know if mowers come with that option but it would have been helpful.  After getting most of the top and sides done but without getting to the really steep parts, I stepped back, took a look at what I had completed and thought….

Good enough! 

I then went back in and watched Steve Carrell's final espisode on The Office.

Lessons Learned

Marriage has taught me some valuable and some not so valuable life lessons.  Not the big ones like making sure you don’t take your marriage for granted or that open and honest communication is the key to a successful marriage.  Let's just assume I have learned those in spades. No, I wanted to talk about some of the lesser known lessons I’ve learned and how those are applying to my new life as a single man.

Here are just some of the lessons I’ve learned and have applied to my everyday life:

·       Laundry folding – By observing the MMC, I have learned how to better fold my t-shirts so they stay somewhat unwrinkled when pulling out of the drawer (that is, if I don’t leave them in the dryer or the laundry basket unfolded for a week).  I still, however, do not know how to successfully fold a towel.

·       Leaving the toilet seat down – I’m not sure when or where or why the rule became for men to make sure the toilet seat is put down and not the women to make sure the toilet seat is put up but it does seem to be a universal rule for the seat to be down…especially when you live in a house full of women.  Even though I am mostly on my own, I still find myself putting the seat down and maybe this is a good thing because there is nothing worse than in the middle of the night having to do a “sit down job” and finding that the toilet seat was up.  Which, as I think of it, is probably why "seat down" became the universal rule.

·       Closing cabinet doors and drawers – Again, the MMC taught me this because she was borderline obsessive compulsive on this matter.  If a cabinet was left even just partially open it would send her into a frenzy.  I never really understood what the fuss was about other than maybe it made the kitchen look like it’s in some state of disarray.  Still, I became accustomed to making sure each cabinet or drawer was closed unless I was doing something like unloading the dishwaher…which meant nothing to the MMC.  She would come through the kitchen while I was unloading and close the cabinets which threw me into a frenzy.

·       Loving children – Prior to being married to the MMC, I was convinced I didn’t want nor needed children.  I think this came out of my first marriage where we ended it without having kids and I constantly thanked whoever was responsible for making sure that didn’t happen (either me, her or God).  This desire not to have kids also came out of a base fear I had of children.  They intimidated me and I was always concerned I was going to say something that could potentially scar them for life.  Plus, being 6’4”, I worried I was going to step on one.  

Now that I have children of my own, I love kids.  I like messing with them, joking with them, wrestling around on the floor with them, and the best part, listening to them.  The next time you are around a 5 to 7 year old, ask them how trees grow or how birds fly and savor their explanation like fine wine.  The innocence of what they say and the determination to get the words out is a truly a joy to witness. Yes, they can be a pain at times, but so can most adults.  Daily life can and has gotten in the way of me enjoying my children so it’s important to me to make sure that doesn’t happen again and thus, I try to make the most of my time with them (without overly spoiling them, however).

·       You get used to the noises your house makes – Since being in my new house, I still haven’t gotten used to the noises it makes.  I didn’t realize how accustomed you become to those noises.  Even the noises from appliances you brought from the old house to the new house are different.  I don’t know why but the refrigerator I ended up getting to keep (contrary to what was said in Bed, Bath, and Bothered), makes noises I never noticed in my old house.  I am glad I do not own any guns because some of the noises that my new house makes would have been greeted with open fire on some nights.

·       Never let your ex take the majority of the kitchen stuff – When the MMC was packing up the kitchen, she asked what I wanted.  I wasn’t in the mood at that time to start dividing pots and pans and kitchen utensils so I just said I would take the old plates and just buy whatever else I needed.  Mistake.  First week in my new house and I quickly realized I didn’t have any microwave safe bowls, a four piece silverware set was not nearly enough, and a decent set of cutting knives is really required. 

·       The word “butt-crack” will send your kids into hysterical laughter every time – Nuff said.

 

And finally …

I don’t need to have a wife in order to be a good father – I’ve had my girls stay over three or four times now since I moved into my house and where I used to be worried about what I would do or how good a father I would be, I now just worry about what we are going to have for dinner.  I think I owe most of this to how my girls have taken the whole divorce thing.  So far, they have taken it very well.  I say “so far” because it’s still too early to think we’re home free and to be honest, it may take years for this to really hit.  For now, though, they have taken this like well-adjusted and balanced people. They know their mom and dad are divorced and live in separate houses.  They know we no longer wear our wedding rings.  They have not asked when are we getting back together or when we will be in the same house again.  I don’t know if this is a result of telling them so early or that while they understand the definition of divorce, they don’t know the meaning of it yet.  Still, I’ll take this to an estranged relationship or sad, depressed children any day.

I also owe a minor nod to my home selection. Having the indoor pool in my community has meant we all get time together while doing something that generates exercises (as opposed to just sitting around and watching TV) and is a lot of fun.  Of course it also means we go swimming regardless of how tired Daddy may be!  Plus they love their room with the bunk beds, dig the dog next door and love the playground as well.  When winter comes, there is a big snow hill we can sled on and they keep bugging me to get them an archery set because there is an archery range here too (truth is, I want a set to go out there as well!). 

Keeping a balance between some fun, but not extravagant, activities and doing normal routine things like taking them to gymnastics and birthday parties, going grocery shopping and making dinner like a normal family has made this transition easier than I thought it would be.  Do I miss them when they are not here?  Like crazy, but in addition to the every other weekend stay overs, I see them every week for dinner or just to horse around for a bit.  This almost constant contact has been key to keeping me sane. 

I’m feeling good about what I have learned in my new role as part time dad and that’s the biggest and best lesson I could ever get.

Now, if you will excuse me, my daughters and I are going to build some birdhouses together.

Travel and the Single Man

For most of last year, I was on the road with my job.  I figured I was away from home 40-45 weeks out of last year.  I have previously surmised that I felt the traveling played a significant role in why I am no longer with my wife and daughters.  It’s a somewhat ironic thing because it wasn’t that I was out messing around when I was traveling which is what breaks up a lot of marriages.  In fact, it was quite the opposite.  When I was away, I missed my family and thus I spent the majority of my evenings in my hotel room.  Sure, I would go out to eat but I was pretty much back in the room by 8 or so.  Even if I had to stay over the weekend which happened a few times, I still wasn’t out partying at some bar.  I’ve never been the type to do that anyway and even more so when I was married. 

Now that I am single again, I thought that traveling would be a more exciting proposition.  Granted, I don’t travel near as much as I did.  As I’ve said in previous posts, I changed to a job that kept me home more.  This was a valiant (although futile) effort to save my marriage.  My first big trip post separation was a trip to Prague in the Czech Republic (mentioned in the last post, Tales of Beards and Bracelets).  This was for my company’s sales kick off and I thought “Man, this is where I am going to make my mark on being single again.”  You see, at events like these, there are a lot of meetings and presentations but there are also a lot of social events.  The company would tell you it’s a chance to network with your peers but most of the company’s employees will tell you it’s a great chance to get really drunk. 

Seeing as how there would be several hundred employees there from all across the world and that I would be in a foreign country, I was ready to do my share of mingling and maybe even have some “fun” while I was there, if you know what I mean, wink-wink-nudge-nudge. On the plane over, I got my man-bracelet and had a few drinks to prep myself for what was sure to be a few nights of frivolity.  I was excited.  I was ready to do this thing known as being single.  I couldn’t wait so much so that I couldn’t sleep on the plane. 

This excitement and readiness for living the single life at its fullest didn’t last long.  The first social event was after the first day of the meetings and there was a happy hour that went well into the night at the bar in the hotel.  Plenty of women and conversation but I was somewhat off to the side.  Not alone, though.  I had a few of the folks I work with who I should actually refer to as my friends but I wasn’t in the middle of chatting up some woman.  I felt out of place.  I felt like it was wrong.  I couldn’t shake the fact that I had just gotten out of the most important relationship I ever had in my life and trying to dive into the single life at that point was like diving into a pool that had no water.

Still, I tried to be as sociable as I could but the flirty single man wasn’t coming out.  At one point, I was showing the man-bracelet that I got on the plane and said it was something to replace my wedding ring.  One woman who was in our group laughed and said, “Oh I know your type.”  I looked at her quizzically and asked, “What is my type?”  She proceeded to describe me as the man who cheated on his wife and now left her and his children behind in order to pursue a mid-life crisis as a single man on the prowl.

The words stung even though they were very, very far from the truth.  Whatever winds I had flowing through my sails were suddenly stopped.  I politely (okay maybe not so politely, I had a few drinks in me after all) advised her that she was wrong and that my wife lost interest in the marriage and I wanted to work things out.  I never cheated on her and I couldn’t wait to see my daughters again.  She quickly shut up.

The rest of the trip was fun but there was one evening where the guys I was with were busily trying to find something to buy their wives and stopped at several stores to haggle for the best deal.  Another moment where my ship stopped dead in the water.  I didn’t have anyone to buy something for.  Oh sure, I did get my daughters some souvenirs but it would have been nice to have someone special for which to buy something special. I would have been right there with my friends in the haggling arena if that were true.  Instead, I stood outside the door and watched people walk by letting that all too familiar buzzing of “whys” and “what happened” dart around my head.  I tried to hide my depression from the guys but I’m not sure I did a great job at it although I hope it wasn’t too obvious. I didn’t and don’t want to be a downer around everyone just because life shit on me a little bit...okay so maybe this blog goes against that thought but I’m not forcing you to read this! :)

Another aspect of traveling relates to those little moments I talked about in The Little Things.  Whenever I used to sit at the airport waiting to board the plane or as soon as I got off the plane, I would call the MMC (see sidebar) just to talk for a bit or let her know I arrived if that was the case and ask how things were going.  I would talk to the girls as well but a highlight was just talking to her.  Like I said, I missed my wife and family when I traveled so making even short phone calls helped to ease that bit of loneliness.  Now, I don’t have that option and when it occurred to me the first time I stepped off a plane, it felt odd…weird…different.

One more story of travel and being single and then I’ll let you go.  When I was returning from going to Seattle for my niece’s wedding (see An Open Letter To My Niece), the girls and I got upgraded to first class on the flight back.  They sat together in the first row and I was behind them in the aisle seat, ready to spring up if they started acting up.  A woman sat next to me in the window seat.  The girls were absolutely perfect the entire flight and it certainly helped that it was a red-eye because they slept the majority of the time.  Those first class seats were practically beds for them.  When we landed, I was getting the girls up and their things together when a woman who was seated across the aisle remarked to the woman who was sitting next to me that she has never seen such well-behaved children on a plane before.  My “seat mate” said that she could take no credit for the girl’s behavior which I thought was a great response.  The other woman said “But you’re with the man who has the good little girls so you should be proud of that.”  We looked at each other, smiled, and let it go.  No sense in trying to explain, although it did kind of bother me that this woman across the aisle made no attempt to give the compliment to me, the father.  Like fathers have nothing to do with the behavior of their children!  Oh well.  Maybe I should have gotten the phone number of the woman who sat next to me but this was before the Prague trip and if I wasn’t ready for single life then, I certainly wasn’t ready for it at that time. 

I said I was going to let you go after that story, didn’t I?  Well, one more thing.  I’ve noticed an evolution with these posts as I have been writing them and I wondered if it was noticeable to anyone else but me.  I started out with the hurt and pain of losing the woman I loved.  I spent a few posts noting (hopefully humorously) about some facets of being single again (specifically in Bed, Bath and Bothered) and how I will be a single father (as in Parents, Inc.) but I spend most of my time on the divorce and the emotions around that.  Still, I do see that the posts are becoming less about her and more about not having someone, which I believe is signficant in that I am probably getting over her but not the situation.  I think loneliness is part of the “suddenly single” package, isn't it?  While it doesn’t have to be a sad thing, it is a major part of getting through all of this.  The end of this may be when I meet someone but I think the end will be when I am WITH someone. 

Okay, you can go now. Thanks for listening.

 

Next time:  The lessons of life

Tales of Beards and Bracelets

In between the time that my divorce papers were filed and I moved into my own house, I went through a period of doing some things outside of my normal routine.  Namely, I grew a beard and bought a bracelet…well, I prefer to call it a wrist band but I’ll get to that in a moment.  These were somewhat subtle changes but they were things that I would not have done had I remained a married man. 

About a month before I moved out, I went on a business trip to Prague in the Czech Republic.  To get there, I had to take an international flight.  I looked into renting a car but the ones that go into the water were apparently all booked up.  Since this was an international flight, you had the opportunity to do some duty free shopping on the plane and as I was thumbing through the catalog, a man’s bracelet caught my eye…and again, I don’t like using the term “bracelet.”  It sounds too feminine for me.  Even though that is how they are classified I decided the term “man-bracelet” took that girly edge off. 

Anyway, this man-bracelet was made of Italian braided leather and had a titanium clasp.  Clasp.  There’s another term I’m not real fond of because, again, there is a feminine quality to it.  Clasps are for bras and necklaces and other types of jewelry and yes, this man-bracelet is under the jewelry umbrella but just on the outer edge and probably gets wet a lot.

Wow, I cannot stay on topic here, can I? 

So the man-bracelet caught my eye for two reasons: one, it was cool looking and two, I think subconsciously I was looking for a replacement to my wedding ring.  As I wrote in The Discord of the Ring, I loved wearing my wedding ring not only for what it represented but because it was comforting to have it on and to know it was there.  Once I stopped wearing it, I would occasionally panic because I thought I took it off and left it somewhere.  I still have those moments.  I needed something to take its place and this duty free bracelet for men felt right.  This was also the start of a pretty cool trip to a foreign country and I thought I was kind of kicking off my single life (I’ll talk about that in another post, though).  The man-bracelet was my new wedding ring; a symbol of me being single again.  Being round, it had the same quality as a ring but it wasn’t a ring so no connotations of being married were attached to it.  In a word, it was perfect.  I flagged down the flight attendant and bought that baby on the spot.  It didn’t last more than a few minutes in the box before it was on my wrist.  I still have it on and am considering maybe adding one or two others.  Is that too much?  Is one too many?  I’m not sure but I don’t really care.  I like it and that’s really all that matters although I did ponder if I needed to wear it on a certain wrist to indicate that I was not gay.  No disrespect to my homosexual friends and readers out there, but I grew up in a time where if you had an earring you’d better put it in the correct ear.  I thought maybe the same applied to bracelets on wrists.  Then I realized I was 47 years old, not in high school anymore and it was 2012 so I put it on the left wrist.

….that’s the correct one, isn’t it?  No…wait…don’t answer that.  It isn’t important.

The Man Bracelet!

After I returned from Prague, I decided not to shave.  Initially, it was the result of the laziness that is born out of depression but then it became something of a statement.  I was stuck in my old house with the MMC and the tension was still palatable.  By growing the beard, I felt like I was putting some insulation between myself and the situation.  Perhaps it was a mask of sorts, trying to hide my pain.  Truth of the matter, the MMC hated beards and that was pretty much the only reason I needed at the time. 

I ended up referring to the hair growing out of my face as my divorce beard.  Thus I had the divorce beard and the man bracelet.  Kind of sounds like a cheesy 70’s buddy cop show, doesn’t it? 

Divorce Beard and Man-Bracelet!  Two cops looking for justice…in all the wrong places. 

Thursdays at 8 pm, 7 Central!

I have never been one to grow a beard.  I had a porn-star style moustache for most of the nineties and I actually shaved that around the time that the MMC and I first met.  Interesting that I started to grow facial hair again when that the MMC were splitting up.  But beards?  I could never get one to grow fully.  It mainly grew thick in some places and thin (or not at all) in others.  Add to the fact that now that I’m older, the sides come in mostly gray so it didn’t look like it was growing at all. 

Still, I persisted with the beard for a good two months or so.  Unfortunately, I got a bad haircut due to a miscommunication between myself and my hair stylist (is that what they call the folks who man the scissors at Pro-Cuts?).  My almost shaved head looked really funny with my gray and splotchy beard.  I looked like the lead character on Breaking Bad and that really wasn’t the look I was going for being newly single and all.  I tried trimming the beard down so it didn’t look thicker than my hair but then I looked like I just got out of prison. 

Ultimately, I gave up.  I shaved off the beard and actually felt better about it.  I’m sure I will try to grow it again but for now, I’m back to being clean shaven and looking a lot less like a ex-convict, meth dealer or homeless programmer. 

I still have the man-bracelet though!  I won’t give up on that.

…I just may put in on the right wrist? 

Next time:  On the road again

The Little Things

Recently, I went back to my “home” state of Texas (I put home in quotes because I’m not originally from there but its where I spent my formative adult years so I like to refer to it as my home state ((Arizona is my other home state where I spent my formative teenage years))).  Outside of seeing friends and family, I also went to Texas for the 19^th season of my Fantasy Football League.  Even though I lived several states away, I made it a point each year to go down there to attend the draft.  This year it was decidedly cheaper since it was just me going and not the whole family.  I like the fact that I have this league and draft to go to each year.  It helps keep me in touch with the friends I have in Texas…although, with the divorce and my need for support to get me through the last few months, I have been in almost constant contact with a handful of them.

A major part of the draft is the poker tournament we have after.  Usually six or seven of the guys stick around, we each throw in $20 and have a tournament.  The payout goes to the first and second place finishers.  On this particular occasion, the cards were falling for me and I ended up winning the thing.  That was $120 in my pocket and it felt good. 

Well, almost good. You see, this was one of the little things in life that is made better when you have someone to share it with.  While I was happy to have the money and to win the tournament, my impulse was to call the MMC (see sidebar), tell her about it and then tell her how I did in the draft…like I’ve done for the past eight years…but that was no longer an option. 

While I am on the mend now that I am on my own, there are still these little moments that become somewhat hollow because I don’t have someone close to share them with.  Any event, no matter how small, becomes much more significant when you get to tell the person you love about it.   For example, in my new place, I decorated a wall with various pictures of the girls and ceramic fish my brother made a long time ago.  I was proud of the placement and the way it looked but even though I enjoyed it, it wasn’t the same without someone to enjoy it with.

I’m not sure how I felt about the little things when I was single (pre-MMC).  That honestly feels like a lifetime ago.  When I experience the minor “life wins” like breaking 100 in golf (okay, 105) or assembling something that has “some assembly required” without having to take it apart because I got a piece backwards, I’m sure I enjoyed them much more back then than I do now, but I doubt I enjoyed them as much as when I was able to tell my wife about them.  I wonder if this says more about the person you are with than it does the event or even more specifically, that you HAVE a person to be share these minor events with.

The other problem I have when the little things occur is the feeling that I should do something to get that person back in my life so that I do have someone to share them with.  For the most part, I don’t think about getting back together with the MMC.  These are the times when I am firmly planted in reality and know that it's over between us.  But when a small win comes along and I don’t have her around to share it with, I start to get lonelier than I did before which in turn lessens the significance of the win.  That loneliness leads to thoughts of what I could do to “win her back.”  Unfortunately, I know that will probably never happen.  I feel certain that even if she felt like she wanted to get back together or that she made a mistake, she would never tell me.  She couldn’t tell me there were problems to begin with, why would she make an even bigger effort to work things out now that we are split up and the divorce will be final in less than 20 days?

No, reconciliation isn’t in the cards and that just means I need to take my little things, enjoy them to the best of my ability and try to not follow that up with bouts of loneliness.  Even better would be to find that next person to share them with. 

If I do that, I would put that in the category of a big thing.

 

Next time:  Talk of whiskers and bracelets.