Father's Day Weekend: The Recap

What. A. Weekend.

If you follow me on twitter, and/or read my post Friday night, you know it was a rollercoaster of a weekend.

The original plan was to drive down Friday, spend some time that night with the boys if possible, do stuff all day Saturday, and breakfast Sunday before hitting the road.

Well, that didn't happen.

Friday was full of drama, arguments and miscommunication.  Saturday morning was filled with sorrow, which changed instantly when I got to spend time with the kids.  Granted, it wasn't a full day of adventures like I hoped, but it was just good to get hugs and kisses again.

We wrestled, we chatted, we played Angry Birds (yeah... I know...).

We even discovered a dinosaur egg!

My oldest found this egg in his room (after excavating, of course) and wanted to hatch it.  Apparently the best way to hatch a dinosaur egg is to submerge it for a day or so?

So he jacked mommy's water cup, and plopped the egg in.  At first, they told me it only takes 5 minutes.  5 turned into 20, then "oh yeah, it takes a day (after some corrections from mom)."

I laughed a little when, 20 minutes later, she turned to the boys and goes "HEY... did you use MY cup for the egg???"  The oldest smiled and said "yup."

Sunday morning was a Father's Day breakfast, cooked by the ex.  My mom came, and the 5 of us chatted, played with the boys, and had lots of fun.  (yes, I used the terms 'ex' and 'fun' in the same paragraph...)  More wrestling (with the kids, not the ex), playing tag in the middle of the street, and other fun shenanigans ensued.  Overall the weekend wasn't what I planned, but it was still really nice.

Best of all, two really good things came from the weekend:

1 - My kids are like my drug.  I missed them.  I went through major bouts of depression over the last few months because of the separation, and this visit recharged my batteries.  They still remember me, even though I'm 858 miles away (from doorstep to doorstep.  The oldest LOVED that fact).  They still love me, even though we don't see each other as often as I'd like.  I moved to Idaho, and life still goes on.  I'm still their daddy, and the validation is what I needed more than anything else.

2 - The ex.  As you read in previous posts, communication between her and I isn't always that great.  We talked, and I think we have come to a good mutual understanding.  She hears what I am saying, and vice versa.  This is great news, and I hope it becomes the norm.  While her and I will never have the relationship we had as husband and wife, we still need to keep a level of rapport and respect for the children's sake.  Besides... it's always better to be on someone's good side.

I rolled back into my driveway at 11:30 Sunday night, only to drive back out at 6am Monday.  Monday was day 1 of the new job, and meant a 260 mile drive to Boise.  I am currently typing this from a Super 8 motel in Caldwell, ID.  I have put over 2000 miles on my car in the past few days, and I'm smiling.

What an adventure.  I can't wait to see how I'm going to top this for Dad's Day 2012...

Happy Father's Day: To the real father-figure in my life

When I think about Father's Day and who I consider to be the real father-figure in my life, I don't think of my actual dad.  If you read yesterday's post, I'm sure you can understand why.

The person I call 'dad' and smile about is my ex-wife's dad.  And here's why.

I met my ex when I was 18, dated when I was 19, and married when I was 20.  Yes, I was legally considered an adult, but I really wasn't 'grown up.'  My dad really wasn't the lesson-teaching type, so everything I had learned from this point was pretty much self-taught.  That is, until Boyd stepped in.

Boyd accepted me with open arms, and treated me like a son from the get-go.  He gave advice, answered questions, and kicked my butt when it needed to be kicked.  He was everything my dad wasn't, and I loved him for that.

He was also a Freemason.  When I turned 21, I joined the local lodge, not only because of the messages Boyd gave me (Masons take great men and make them better) but also as another way to bond with him.  It was something we could have in common, talk about, and share with each other.

Masonry wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and I grew tired of the political posturing that a lot of members focused on.  I learned a lot while I was a member, but I just didn't see it as a good fit.  Maybe I'm just not the secret society type?

Over the years Boyd took me under his wing, and helped teach me skills that every man should know.  We worked on home projects together, fixing cars, doing taxes, and many other 'adult' things.  He answered all of my questions candidly, and treated me like a peer instead of a nuisance.

I never had these types of bonding with my dad.  His version of bonding was watching sports together, and him screaming at the TV in hopes the referee or Quarterback will be able to hear him, and "get their act together..." 

When I look back at my youth, I don't see a lot of 'warm and fuzzy' memories of my dad and I hanging out.  But in the short amount of time I spent with Boyd, he became the real dad in my life.

With good comes bad.  He wasn't a perfect man by any means.  He introduced me to PC games like Starcraft, Star Wars Galaxies, and World of Warcraft.  We bonded over gaming addictions as well as cars and business-talk. 

I look back at the causes that made my marriage dissolve, and video games are on that list.  I was addicted, and it cause a major rift in my relationship.  I was a bad husband and a bad father, because I 'had to make raid times.'  I have noone to blame but myself, but part of me wishes that Boyd never introduced me into that world.  He would buy me all the games, just so I could play with him... we both would spend countless hours online, ignoring our real worlds and living in fantasy.  We both, at times, put the game before our marriages...  I don't play anymore, because I never want to fall down that rabbit hole again.  Boyd never made that decision, and continued to be a hardcore player until the end.

Sadly, Boyd passed away in 2008.  He died of Heart Failure, in a fairly quick fashion.  My youngest was born, and in less than 2 months grandpa had passed on.  It was a devastating loss to the family, and my first experience with death for someone I loved deeply, and mourned intensely. 

Though dead, he will never truly be gone.  His lessons linger in my heart, and I will always remember him and all the good times.  My youngest will never remember being held in papa's arms, but I will make sure he knows about this great man, and what he did for me.

Happy Father's Day, Boyd.  You're missed, and will never be forgotten.

Father's Day Weekend - Why I'm Not Sending My Dad a Tie This Year...

Actually, if anything, I'll be sending this coffee mug to him instead.  It sends a message of "I love you dad, but that doesn't mean I have to like you."

But then again, I doubt he's expecting anything from me.  We haven't talked since early 2009.

Why?  Well, if you ask him, it's because I'm ungrateful.

If you ask anyone else in the world that knows him, it's because he's a grade-A jerk.

I blogged earlier about my mom, and how she is finally living a life of a promiscuous 20-something at the age of 49.  Well a lot of it was because she married my dad young, and he was a d-bag from day 1.  When she turned 16, she bought her own car.  A 1977 Trans-Am, brand new, all the bells and whistles.  It was her dream car, and she loved it.  She married my dad in 1980, and the first thing he did was sell her car.  Why?  In his opinion, "it wasn't the car a married woman and mother should be driving."  Did he consult her?  Nope.  He just did it.

And that's how he lives his life.  He knows best, and he's always right.

Dad hasn't worked a consistent job since about 1995.  But he plays the lotto on a daily basis.  He plays all the different types:  Draw 3, draw 5, the big lotto, and he keeps a log.  He has hundreds of pages of graph paper with lotto results from the last 15 years, and LOVES to talk at length about how the California lottery is monitoring HIM, and making sure his numbers never come up.

Yes, I'm completely serious.  The California State Lotto is watching my dad like a hawk.  If he plays 2-7-2 on a pick 3, they will make sure he's always 1 number off.  Even if the number drawn is 8-4-5, he can find a way to justify it SHOULD HAVE BEEN his number.

See, folks?  This is what happens when you don't work.  You go crazy.  It completely made sense when my mom left him about 5 years ago.

Another big issue I have with my dad is his racism.  He's a hard-line Democrat, and I was raised in a neighborhood where I was pretty much the only white boy on my block.  Racism doesn't thrive well in those scenarios, but my dad finds a way.

According to dad, all the bad drivers on the road are Mexican.  Ok, ok, in Southern California that's a safe bet statistics-wise, but still... when you're 15, and you're dad his hanging his head out the window of the car yelling "CHOCO LOCO!!!" it's a bit of an embarassment.

Speaking of car stories, he's a chain smoker.  He smokes in his car, with the windows rolled up.  Growing up, I was definitely a somewhat addicted second-hand smoker.  When I cough, I sound like I've been smoking a pack a day since I was 12... Thanks dad, for fucking up my lungs and not caring.

He was finally evicted from the home I was raised in, and is now living with his parents in Arizona.  I feel sorry for Grandma and Grandpa.  Talking to them, he's pretty close to being homeless, because dad is treating them like dirt... even though they are giving him a place to stay rent-free.  Go fig.

Dad only cares about himself.  He has gotten TV and phone service in my name by using my Social Security Number, because his credit is so screwed up.  His solution was to take advantage of his boys... first my brother and then me.  Isn't he great?

On the bright side, dad has taught me a valuable lesson:  Don't be like him.  I make an effort every day to be as NOT like him as possible.  I don't judge, I don't exploit, and I try to put others first.  So, in a way, thanks dad for being such an asshole.