Here's a post of a narrative that was initially written from a mom's point of view, and has since been altered to a father's point of view (my point of view actually). With father's day on the horizon I figured this would be fitting for all the dad's out there grinding away, making things happen for the betterment of their family who may get overlooked regularly or just occasionally due to being known as "the rock" on a regular basis. I hope this is relatable for many and is a reminder that you're not alone, and your struggles are recognized. Happy Father's Day boys, enjoy your day!
"IT'S A MIRACLE I’M EVEN HERE"…
These are the words I mumble to myself when I sit down at my desk every day. The fact that I made it at all feels like a closing scene from Mission Impossible, where Tom Cruise can finally wipe the sweat off his brow and sit down. It’s only 10 a.m., but I’ve been up for hours navigating potential threats, averting crisis, and maintaining peace. My daughter made it to school on time and I’m at work with clean clothes and a clean-ish body(my kids baby wipes to the major areas). IT'S A MIRACLE.
As a working dad, most days feel very much like a half-ass, going-through-the-motions dance. When I’m at work, my heart is at home. My head is writing grocery lists, what needs to be cleaned, what bills are/aren't paid, and what am I playing damage control on when I get home. Oftentimes I’m playing logistical superman trying to figure out how to get all of what my kid needs done while figuring out how many errands of my own i can fit into my day (most getting sacrificed). My boss gets on me for things i didnt do right and conveniently forgets that i never had proper training since being hired (it's been 6 months now) and I just want to scream “IT’S A MIRACLE I’M EVEN HERE!”
When I’m home, I feel guilt and pressure for not being more focused, and accomplishing more at work. I reminisce about the days where awards and pay raises were actually goals and not far-fetched hopes driven by mere numbers that feel much too stressful to even think about. I think about my younger dreams of having a legit career with the potential of earning $100,000 a year by the time I hit 35. I vaguely recall my plans to own a a house by now and own a new car i really want outright. These dreams feel intangible and even selfish, really. My goals should be focused on my family. My future should look towards my kids’ college fund… not how this month's bills are getting paid.
From the moment I wake up, I’m doing a mental and physical cha cha with my wife and kid to get everyone dressed and fed, and — don’t hit the dog! — stop scavenging the scraps your sister drops! By the time my kid is buckled in their car seat I’m ready to do a happy dance we even made it this far. "IT'S A MIRACLE I’M EVEN HERE"
Once I’ve arrived at work, I’m doing the “look who’s finally arrived” glide to my desk, eyeballing my coworkers for eye rolls or sighs of exasperation. I know how it feels to get to work every day and be a good employee, angrily staring down the losers who couldn’t even arrive at the office on time. I used to be one of them. Now I’m one of the stragglers who holds her head down and hopes no one notices as he quietly slips past the boss’s office yet again.
Afternoons are a straight up break dance of wrangling my kid all over, juggling dinner, and starting the bed routine between 8&9 p.m. because it literally takes two hours to put my child to sleep. By the time the they're in bed, it’s my bedtime, I haven’t said more than a few sentences to my wife other than "can you grab me a drink?” or "did you remember the napkins?" and I don’t have an ounce of energy left in me. It’s time for my sleep dance, where I sit on the couch after taking all my medications (for my tons of health issues) for about 2 hrs waiting for them to work, then its "sheet wars" with the wife, and routine visits to my kid's crib to make sure they haven't woken up.
It’s a half-ass parenting dance. A dance I would never win in any competition. I do what needs to get done no matter the self-cost and then it’s on to the next duty, the next dance. I don’t do any of it particularly well in my opinion, but I do what I can to get a pay check, to keep the family alive, to feed the family, and to make it to bed earrly enough to get 2-3 hours sleep before I start all over again.
This dance isn’t pretty. Sometimes it’s not much fun, and it always leaves me breathless and exhausted. But I keep truckin’, and I get from point A to point B some way, some how.
"IT'S A MIRACLE I’M EVEN HERE"
