I can’t say that yesterday’s rant actually made things any better, mentally speaking. However, it did manage to break me away from work and life a tad more fully than other options I currently have available.
As such, I’m back for day two of blogging. . . although I’m still not certain if the hiatus is off or not.
But, no more bitching. I hate bitching. Instead, I think I’ll talk for a moment about my children.
I don’t think my children have actually gotten all that much playtime on this blog here. As such, I may not have completely expressed to you how important of a part of my life they truly are. I’ve got 2 of them, a 3-year old girl and a 1-year old boy. They’re awesome. Almost every day they give me another reason to feel somewhat okay with being stuck in a job that I believe belongs to someone much less talented than I. They also are some of the largest reasons why I strive to be more, knowing that they deserve much better than I’m currently giving them. And, to be honest. . . I’m giving them pretty darn good already.
This summer, however, had been hard on both of them. They normally go to a daycare that’s attached to the university. This daycare attempts to be more like a pre-school than a daycare, teaching both the kids and the students who work there. It’s been fantastic for both of my kids, although my son has had little time as a fully sentient being to understand what’s going on there. During the summer, however, we have been using a family friend, as it’s relatively cheaper.
The family friend is great, fantastic even. Unfortunately the issue comes with the other kids. They’re both good kids, just going through some stuff, and really don’t know how to deal with life at the moment. As such, they have the tendency to be relatively mean to my kids. My son really doesn’t notice (I don’t think) but my daughter, who would love more than anything to play with these kids non-stop, doesn’t know how to deal with it. Repeatedly over the summer I would hear these sad stories about how they would shut her out of their games, or how they would put her in cages, or whatever else. Many times she would end these stories with comments like “I just don’t know why my cousins don’t like me.” Oh yeah. . . forgot to mention, they’re also her cousins.
Every time she would tell me these stories, I was instantly brought back to my own childhood, feeling that no one liked me, feeling that I had no options for friends, not knowing why I was the outcast. . . and that instant empathy for my daughter made it very difficult for me to not just break down in tears every time she told me one of these stories.
So, I would try to be the strong father, coming up with ways for her to deal with these unhappy cousins. Everything I came up with would end up getting shot down once actually attempted to be used, as it would cause more strife with the unhappy cousins, instead of actually making things better. Well, I actually think that they would have made things better for my daughter, but. . . well, she’s the easy one. The other ones melt down a bit too easily.
All summer I watched my daughter deal with these emotions and not know why she was in the situation she was in. All summer I wanted to take her away from the situation (unfortunately not having a good way of doing so). So I watched, feeling helpless. . . knowing that she needed to face situations like this so she would understand that not everyone would like her, even if the reasons have absolutely nothing to do with her. I faced the same issues with my cousins as a child. Although I don’t believe I was anywhere near as young as she.
Yesterday would seem to have marked a change in all that. Yesterday brought about the return of her actual daycare, the return of her actual friends, and the return to a more structured. Yesterday brought about a happier daughter when she arrived at home. I didn’t hear any stories about how neglected she was feeling. And. . . we later had a family event where she was hanging out with all nearby cousins, including the ones who had made her sad all summer. One of the ‘mean’ ones was in terrible form all evening, but my daughter didn’t notice, as she was able to play happily with all the rest of them, feeling accepted once again.
I love my children. I want them to always feel accepted. So. . . I guess that means I was a pretty happy dude last night.
And that’s my relatively lame story to tell for today.
Have a good one.