more normal than not

Geeeeeeeeshhhhh.

It was busy yesterday.

Yesterday was the first time that I missed the outgoing mail truck.

That’s something that’s recoverable….we can get the mail somewhere where another truck can pick it up….but it’s not something that you want to happen.

Yesterday was the first time that I delivered mail in the dark.

It’s too dark to see at night….hard to deliver the mail accurately when you can’t see the letters.

(I could see….I turned on the light inside the car….)

I had to make an additional trip to the old post office to drop off their mail….and then had to deliver a small handful of really big packages (hah! “a small handful”? a truckload….) before I came back to our office to get the rest of the mail and deliver it.

Those “second trips” are killers…if I’m going to make it back in time.

Even after making the extra trip, my Jeep was so overfilled (after I came back to “reload”) that I couldn’t see out of it.

It’s dangerous driving like that.

It was so full that, until I delivered a bunch of it, I couldn’t even get to my bones.

Like delivering the mail, my life is pretty predictable.

I have a route with a fairly consistent set of conditions and outcomes.

My dogs get and expect a bone when I pull up to the mailbox.

Day in and day out, they have expectations.

Yesterday was the first time that I had to tell them that I couldn’t give them a bone.

THAT JUST ABOUT BROKE BOTH OF OUR HEARTS.

It was too busy yesterday….crazy busy.

What’s life come to when you can’t even stop and smell the roses…..and get to your bones?

There’s got to be a better way….at least, that’s what the dogs said yesterday.

Sometimes it takes me a while to do something because I want to do it right.

Like….build the kids a treehouse.

LOOK AT THIS TREEHOUSE!! ISN’T IT MAGNIFICENT!! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!!

The one that I’m going to build for the kids….will be nothing like this.

What am I? Made of money? Made of time?

I can’t put a shower in their treehouse….they don’t even like to take showers.

I’m glad that they aren’t really into showers.

It’s hard to put a shower in a treehouse.

I started planning a treehouse for these little guys before Sparrow was even born….that’s how long I’ve been saying, “Yeah….Daddy’s going to build you a treehouse….”.

Slack Daddy….taking too long to build a treehouse.

Check this one out, too….pretty cool.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBWsdmXJDGI

I once mentioned to a friend that what I liked about climbing was the lifestyle.

I think that he thought that was kind of funny.

I drop “honesty bombs” every once and a while….most of the time without thinking about what I’m really saying.

He was my climbing “mentor”….and I think he knew that some of what we did made me pretty nervous.

Even the easy stuff made me nervous. I was kind of like the cat who has to have the firemen come get him down out of the tree….nervous.

What I told him was kind of like saying that I like riding a bicycle because I wanted to wear the tight shorts.

What a poseur.

I climbed some….but hate heights….so the lifestyle was the closest I could get to being a climber.

I don’t want to get up high….but sitting around a campfire with a bunch of folks who are jacked up about what they’re doing would be kind of fun.

That’s the appeal of hanging around “fun hogs”….getting caught up in the enthusiasm for what they’re doing.

Now if I could always channel that same enthusiasm into something concrete….fixing up an old farm, maybe? Or raising children? Being a good husband?

“Fun Hog Daddy”.

That’s the real adventure….that’s what you want your kids to grow up around: crazy strong enthusiasm for life.

Crazy strong!! That’s the way to go!!

Check out this lady….surfing in Norway!! Imagine that!! Surfing in Norway!! Uffda!!

I hope that my children trust that I love them.

I was thinking about that on the mail route….thinking about “conditions”….thinking about all the reasons that parents become estranged from their children….or present a face to their children that makes the kids question their place in their parent’s hearts.

I don’t know why I got on that subject.

I know I was thinking about things that were a lot less interesting only moments before….like why red licorice that’s a year out of date gets hard.

I am sure that my thoughts were even more random and goofy only moments before that.

I guess that “trust” is different from saying, “I hope that my children know that I love them.”

“Know” is kind of conditional. If you keep all the conditions stable, of course people are going to know that you love them.

If you do all the right things….pay attention at the right time…give the proper gifts in season…exhibit the outward signs of affection and appreciation….then, surely, these people….these people in your life that you are supposed to care about….are going to know that you love them.

“Knowing” isn’t so hard if people work at it a little.

But “trust” goes a little deeper.

Trust is there even if the outward appearance falls apart for a while.

It’s a silly game of semantics….”trust” and “know”….but, even if I keep my end of the equation together all the time….and “knowing” is never in question….I hope that my kids will always trust that I love them.

I’ve heard people say, “Oh….no….my parents would disown me if….” when they’re talking about a love based on fulfilled expectations.

There is a lot of that going on in the world.

I’m guilty of it in the little things.

I WILL CUT A FAVORITE RESTAURANT OFF (!!!) IF THEY BRING ME A BAD MEAL.

I can be a hard case if I need to be.

But when it comes to the really important people in my life, I should be a little less apt to go in that direction.

When it comes to my kids I should never go in that direction.

Of course, if you want to really open up a can of worms, compare our relationships with the people in our lives to our intended relationship with God.

No wonder we have a hard time figuring God out.

We can’t sort out the relationships at hand.

We sure can’t figure out our relationship with God.

Best to keep that one kind of abstract ….or, maybe, over intellectualize it.

If you can’t understand something, give it some distance.

I don’t know that I’ll do the right thing most of the time.

I can be pretty cranky, sometimes….kind of off-putting….so I might give the impression of something less than crazed and joyful affection.

Man….I do hope that my family trusts that I love them.

No matter what….that they trust that I love them.

Knowing that might get me through.

OK….here’s the thing about my life: I help Nate get to sleep….and part of that is that after we’ve said our prayers, I usually (always) fall asleep with him.

Then, I wake up an hour or two later…so that I can start my evening and have a good solid block of about 15 minutes where I try to stay awake on the couch….and enjoy some quality adult time.

Now, at 4:35 the next morning, I’m sitting here…exhausted….in the quiet house before anyone else is awake….exhausted….not even going fishing….just sitting here waiting for the coffee water to get hot…exhausted…writing this blog.

And….somehow, it feels like a victory if the house is quiet for a moment.

The only part of that quiet that can make my quiet alone time a pleasure is knowing that soon the scene will change….and things will be noisy again….and these little guys will be needing to get some juice or get to school or climb up onto a lap.

Quiet time that I can be selective about is OK.

It feels good to be able to be selective at all.

(That’s the little guys I’m talking about…..Isaac doesn’t crawl onto my lap anymore.That would be kind of creepy.)

So when I say “late to bed, early to rise”, it’s really just me turning a phrase to amuse myself.

I should say “early to bed, then get up and look around, then go back to a different bed, then…early to rise”.

That would be more accurate.

I go to sleep really early…even if nobody tells the “big boy/man” that it’s his bedtime now.

I sleep…just in a weird disjointed way.

We’re in the “overtime” period at the post office now.

That means that even though the workload is increased because of Christmas, we’re supposed to figure out how to do the job without going over our evaluated time.

So, in spite of all the safety talks, I guess that we’re supposed to drive like bats out of Hades and get back to the post office LICKETY SPLIT….(without throwing any packages).

Overtime is something that the Union got for us….but management doesn’t like it, so they strongly (STRONGLY) discourage us from getting it.

I wish they’d just pay us our evaluation….let us work hard….and stop riding us about something that we don’t have any control over.

People like to buy things at Christmastime….and we deliver a lot of packages….and it takes longer to get the packages out….and it’s dangerous when you can’t see out of your overstuffed vehicle…and….blah, blah, blah.

It’s like this every year.

I had a couple of packages stolen up on my route the other week….but it turned out that one of the ten-year-old neighbors took them.

Good to get them back…but a pain for me.

I take it too personally…like it’s my fault if some little thief thinks that he needs to take someone’s Barbie Roll-a-Round.

What’s a little boy need with a Barbie Roll-a-Round?

Nate’s up.

It is an exhausting amount of work to carve out a “stolen moment” of quiet time.

“river (cover)” Cee-Lo Green